


Derby Dancing

by DauntlessCathar



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Bisexual Character, Bubbline, Canon Lesbian Relationship, College AU, Durgs, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/F, Goth gf, Language, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Realistic, Roller Derby, Roller Derby AU, alkyhol, bubblegum is looking for a goth gf, bubblegum is thirsty, foul mouthed lesbians, language!!, marceline is into post punk, some violence, sports AU, sugarlessgum - Freeform, uuuuuuuhhhhhnnnnnngggghhh, what are tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-10-09 09:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17404190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DauntlessCathar/pseuds/DauntlessCathar
Summary: Every fandom needs a slow burn GAY ROLLER DERBY AU amiright!!!!!!Princess Bubblegum is a hapless gay undergrad at Ooo U and Marceline is the oblivious tsundere star of a roller derby team called The Princesses of Ooo.This is my first fan fic. Hope you are ready for  #thirsty Princess bubblegum on the prowl for our favorite foul-mouthed Goth GF. She really has no shame.





	1. Bubblegum Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! thanks for taking a look at this fanfic! I want to put a few disclaimers out there. I don't play roller derby, I just think its sexy. So I've done some minor research. If you find some qualm with my depiction of the sport know that I am a horny idiot who just wanted to do this for its own sake so you can STFU. Also no proof reading was done. We Die Like Men!  
> Welcome to Derby Dancing, mortals!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonnibel Betzler had always believed in science and— not much else. When the chips were down she knew she could think her way out of any situation until her chance encounter with a mysterious woman one night after school. The thirst begins.

Bonnibel Betzler had always believed in science and not much else.

When the chips were down she knew she could think her way out of any situation. Ever since she was little her parents had praised her ability to look at any troublesome problem and make her way out of it without tears or asking for help, or any attention from them at all. This was an ideal situation as her Mutter and Pater were always busy with work.

As a child she would wander the halls of the family mansion in Spreewald. The verdant green pastures of the German countryside wasted on the young girl who kept to herself, choosing instead to pad quietly around the cool marble floors in stockinged feet while attended to from afar by her dedicated butler, Herr Peppermint. Her small pink skirt would rustle as she passed door after door to each empty room. Then she would pass the heavy locked door that lead to her family’s sanctum sanctorum : The Lab. She would press the shell of her ear to the door to listen for them. She heard only the muted sounds of clanking metal and the faint smell of decontamination chemicals. Even now the effluvia of the lab at her university filled her with nostalgia and awe. This was in her blood. To create, to explore, to improve.

The Work. That was what she existed for. She was her parents’ legacy. Their only child. Only one photo existed of she and her parents. A happy afternoon spent in Berlin. On the train, she had eaten a sundae topped with pink gummy bears they had found just for her. They then got their portrait taken professionally. She sat happy and full on her father’s lap as her mother looked at the two of them like they brought her so much joy it was all she could do to contain it. They looked like a perfect happy family. Perfect.

The photo had rested on the mantle of their home up until Bonnibel was forced to move to the United States with her uncle after the accident. It had sat on the mantle as the light filtered through the large bay window in the sitting room. Tiny golden flecks of dust floating and sparkling in the air like little spirits. She watched them drift to the ground. She was eight and wearing a dress of pink crushed velvet and tulle she would put on often while she played and day-dreamed her summer holiday away. It spread out beneath her luxuriously in a way that felt a little silly to her, even then. Peppermint had told her to wait for a little while on the tongue-colored leather chesterfield while he talked to the stranger in black at the door. His tall hat casting a long shadow as he tipped it, his face sharp and hollow like bone. So she sat and she watched the dust fall, as all things do, to the persian rug that warmed the cold floor. They fell and then disappeared.

The young girl sat still and silent as Peppermint returned to the room. The light was so bright, falling directly into her large grey eyes, but it was fading quickly. Summer was ending. The nightingale that lived in the ancient oak outside the window sang his song as if it were any other day. Peppermint sat down next to her. The leather sofa creaked in a way that was silly, silly like her dress. Out of place in a moment of magnitude. He said words she could not remember now. She didn’t hear them then. She only knew that the life she had known up until now was over. She would leave her school, her home, her friends, to begin life anew with her mother’s brother, Gumbald, in the United States. Peppermint paused to see if the young girl understood what was happening.

“Papa said that matter can never be created or destroyed, it only changes form.”

“If he said that, then it must be true. Oh my princess, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry...”

 

Her butler hugged her and wept. Young Bonnibel looked again at the photo and felt suddenly out of place, a stranger. The heavy layers of her costume and the leather pressed against her tiny palm making her skin sweat.

 

Bonnibel had grown from a lonely girl into a lonely young woman. Her uncle had not proven to be any more attentive a guardian than her parents had been. He did not understand her and found her too uptight and taciturn to relate to. He was an entrepreneur and venture capitalist. He loved the loud, the fast, and the exciting. He bought and sold the ideas of others using the fortune primarily built on Bonnibel’s parents’ patents. He was also an avid gambler. His ability to assess risk in investment scenarios did not translate to the racetrack or the poker table. He often lost as much as he made. The family finances were in flux and Bonnibel was not set to receive her inheritance until she graduated from university, as was laid out in her parents’ will. Until that time she was at her uncle's behest when it came to her allowance. Her pater was not a genius when it came to money, it seemed. There were no worse hands it could be left in. She had little faith any would be left by the time she graduated to fund her future studies and livelihood.

She was now in her senior year at college. She had a private double room in the dormitory, a favor from Dean Lemongrab who admired her parents work. Ooo University was the best college in the country when it came to engineering and research and development. Bonnibel had been accepted with flying colors and had found the experience to be gratifying thus far. She excelled in her studies to a degree that others found scary. Even her professors. They allowed her several self guided study hours though she was still only in undergrad. She had been fascinated by patterns of movement. The flow patterns of molecules, flocks of birds, and people. The way we all take life one step at a time, not really looking at where we are going only knowing we must go. It helped her understand things a bit more. Helped her deal with the seeming aimlessness that began to overwhelm her as she neared graduation.

She sat at her wide mahogany desk in her room. The entirety of the surface scattered with papers and figures. Other sheets were adhered to the wall forming a disturbing patchwork of graphing paper and post it notes almost covering the gauche vintage wallpaper that consisted of repeated patterns of small doves and bushels of dark brown grapes. Bonnibel sighed deeply. It was nearing two in the morning and she had hit a wall. She shut her laptop and let the warm yellow light of her desk lamp wash over her as she thumped her head down on her desk. The place was a mess, and her brain needed a break. She removed her dark mauve teddy bear coat from the back of her chair and fastened the oversized tortoiseshell-like buttons up to the top. She let her long strawberry blond hair spill over the collar onto her shoulders. She searched under a pile of notebooks and found her tall knit cap with the cute fuzzy bauble at the top and pulled on her chelsea boots. She turned off the desk lamp and let the furious wasteland of her dorm room disappear into deep blue darkness.

The autumn evening was cool and bright. Ooo U was located in the middle of a bustling city. At this late hour, many people were still out and many businesses were still open. She felt like walking through the park that was across the street from her dorm but first she would need to visit the corner store and get her favorite midnight treat.

The little tinny bell rang as she walked into the 24/7 Choose Goose. She made a beeline to the freezer located below the deli counter and pulled out one of the princess pops. The character was beyond recognition. The lumpy licorice flavored eyes sliding down the poor girls face into her indecently agape strawberry ice cream mouth or off the face entirely and into the wax paper package. At the center of her body was a rudely large pink bubblegum belly. _Is she pregnant? What is the deal with this bitch?_ She smiled to herself already feeling her exhaustion subside. Despite its inexplicable nature, the belly was Bonnibel’s favorite part. There was nothing like the special saccharine taste of “pink flavored” bubblegum. She paid the odd and gangly clerk and walked back out again towards the park.

The park was not very large and she would often trace and retrace the cobblestone loops around the wide white archway and fountain located in the center. It was chilly and the icecream was not helping. She continued to eat it anyway, one must suffer for love, after all, she thought. Tonight a group of teenagers had set up a boombox and were drinking (discreetly) and dancing to some top forties station near the fountain. Bonnibel smiled. She could count the number of friends she had made at college on one hand, but still enjoyed seeing others have fun even when she was not involved. She couldn’t imagine herself dancing with abandon at two am with anyone. She hid herself behind a bit of shrubbery so she could enjoy the display without being seen. She was not socially brilliant but she knew enough to know to conceal her creepiness.

That’s when it happened.

 

“Whoa! What the---fuck!!”

 

A voice shouted from behind her shrub. A voice that somehow still managed to be even and melodic in spite of the owner being startled by Bonnibel’s secreted location. The intonation at the end a little crackly, and---well, cute.

Bonnibel turned towards the voice. A woman was on roller skates and moving extremely fast. She held a bundle of flyers under her arm. She was heading right for her. Bonnibel was never an athlete and it soon became obvious. She had almost no time to react. All she managed to do was cause herself to fall to the ground.  In the panic and confusion of watching a person jump _in front_ of her path instead of out of it, the other woman was forced to the ground too.

 

“Fuck. What the hell, man! You’re hiding in bushes at two in the morning jumping out at people! Psycho!”

 

The fliers she was holding had burst out into the air and rained down on them. Many of them blowing far into the square at the center of the park in the bristling fall wind. The teenagers continued dancing in the whirlwind of paper, having an excellent night. Bonnibel was a little stunned. Her forearm was scratched, she could see from where her jacket had pulled up in the fall. She needed some time to figure out what had happened. Bonnibel had always been able to take time, to think. Now she found herself unable to think. She was hurt and the unknown skater was yelling at her. Yelling and not calming down. On top of everything the remaining ice cream on her princess pop had fallen off in the tumble, taking the gumball with it. All Gone, victims to this incoherent and sudden tragedy. She held up the naked stick remorsefully to be certain all was lost.

“Wha---Is that a _KNIFE_ ! You trying to _FIGHT_ , BITCH!? **I’ll END YOU!** ” the other woman yelled.

Everything was getting worse, and she found herself unable to fix it. She threw the stick down and began to shake her head no and give any and every yielding gesture she could think of. The stupid pink bauble on top of her cap bobbed pathetically before the taller woman, this seemed to cause her homicidal resolve to soften, at least a bit.

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Bonnibel pleaded.

 

Bonnibels face was red and had she been the type to cry, she would have been. Perhaps that would have helped her situation. She instead started trying to help the other woman pick up the fliers that she had caused her to scatter. They were black and white xerox copies of a collage made from magazine clippings and printed on neon yellow paper. The fliers looked badass and a little scary. They read:

 

!!!!Roller Derby!!!!!

_The Princesses of Ooo vs Break Fist at Tiffany’ss_

This Friday

Midnight

@ The Nightosphere

She looked at the flier for a second. _Roller Derby_. The other girl quickly snatched the paper out of her hand to return to the now shitty ramshackle pile. Bonnibel was crawling on her hands and knees across the cobblestones. The pain shooting through her quickly and lightly, but she needed to move fast. Only a few fliers remained that could be recovered. She saw one positioned below a streetlamp near a bench painted a thick shiny coat of vinyl ivy green. She crawled over to it and reached for it. At the same moment the other woman also grabbed it. The pale, almost grey, hand grazed her own for a second. The nails were short and painted black and she could see the hint of a wrist tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of the black jacket she was wearing. A single silver ring was on her thumb. Bonnibel remained on the ground as the girl stood.

She was wearing _tight_ red pleather pants that flared at the bottom and stopped above the ankle revealing a worn pair of matte black roller skates. The toe of the right one was held together with duct tape. She had a leather studded jacket on over a cropped graphic t shirt that read _Bauhaus_. The woman’s short jet black bobbed hair was chopped brutishly at her shoulders. A few slick strands blew across the high sharp planes of her face. Bonnibel couldn’t help but stare at her for a moment. From the angle she was at, Bonnibel could just catch sight of a black lace bra under her shirt cradling the gentle curve of her breasts. The street lamp suddenly reflected in the other woman’s cat green eyes like a flash, shocking her. Bonnibel had to turn away quickly, hiding her face in the shadows.

 

“Uh, roller derby, huh? like the film?” was all she could manage to say as she sat on her haunches below the taller woman, she was staring intently at the pavement.

 

“Nothing like that. At all.” was all the other woman said. There was a hint of a toothy grin in her voice. She enjoyed being a little cruel, Bonnibel thought.

 

She watched the other woman skate off into the night. She really watched her. The way her legs swept  from side to side so gracefully like a dance. The gesture of the movements were smooth from her hip. The elliptical contortion at her hamstring caused her ass muscles to contract. It was interesting. Like Biology, or anatomy, like science. Science. Yes.  

Science, and the fact that Bonnibel Betzler was very very gay. A fact that was becoming more apparent each and every day.

Bonnibel sighed another exasperated sigh, the latest of many that night. She stood up, dusted off her knees and adjusted her pink corduroy skirt. She winced a little remembering the scrape on her arm. She pulled the sleeve of her jacket back over it and decided she needed to head home soon and apply some disinfectants and dress the wound. She walked slowly, still a little shaken.

The teenagers near the fountain were still partying like nothing had happened. To them, nothing had. She glared at them, a little peeved. She found she recognized a couple of them who hadn’t been there earlier. Two brothers who were in her ceramics elective. She was able to smile at that, at least.

The city of Ooo was huge. Over eight million people. This could be both a blessing and a curse. On the upside, she could do something completely mortifying in front of someone and never worry about seeing them ever again. However, on the downside, she could do something completely mortifying in front of someone _hot_ and never see them again.

 

 _Oh well. What did it matter anyway..._ She kicked the ground and found that her toe hit something hard and round.

 

It was the remains of the bubblegum princess.

 

 _And there’s the little bitch who caused all this trouble_ , she thought wistfully as she headed back to her dorm and the pile of calculations she would be now be useless to finish.


	2. Brady Bunch lookin' B*tch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marceline is a jock goth slob and nothing goes right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far! I hope It has been fun and rewarding. Now we get to see some of Marceline and friends' story!

Marceline Abadeer awoke groggily to the sound of her phone’s alarm clock. Her eyes cracked open, quickly adjusting to the faint hint of sunlight weakly slinking in through the barred window into her basement apartment. She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. 

The phone alarm continued to sound. She had trouble remembering where she had dropped it after she got home from work the night before. A few too many comped employee shots at The Nightosphere with Keila and, was Bongo there? He didn’t even work with them... Bongo freeloading. What else was new? 

She flipped an old greasy paper plate with a chunk of stale pizza crust on it and found her phone chirping away beneath it. 

 

“Shut that thing the fuck up, babe.” Ash’s voice chided from the otherside of her mattress. Oh, yeah, Ash had taken advantage of her employee discount too. She pressed the off button on the alarm. Noon thirty. She was up bright and early today.

 

She stood up and stretched her arms above her head. Her shoulders popped gratifyingly as did her knuckles. She caught a glimpse at herself in the full length mirror. She was only dressed in her underwear. She looked at her long slender body, at the hint of strong lean muscle developing underneath her pale skin. She checked out her butt and smiled. Her training had been paying off.

In the reflection she also saw Ash still sleeping one off. He had drank a lot more than she had and it showed. He was breathing heavily and a light film of sweat coated his body. It was at this moment, as if he knew she was studying him, that Ash decided to rip a profoundly rich beer fart straight through her favorite comforter. The room was now uninhabitable. She clasped her hand over her nose and mouth and dashed into the living room. 

To her surprise Keila and Bongo were already awake and playing Playstation. She paused, mid-dash, behind the couch. She thought they’d still be asleep. The problem wasn’t just that she was nearly naked, it was that she was wearing her “yummy sushi” panties that she got from the juniors section at Target. This was unacceptable.

Luckily, they were in the middle of an intense part of Dark Souls (which was, in fact, the entire game). Bongo was at the helm and didn’t look up when she slammed the door to her room to contain the stench. Keila did though. 

 

“Morning dude, whoa! When did you get abs!? Are you like a goth jock now? Do they even make those...”

“Shut up man. I’m in a crisis. Can I borrow some clothes? Ash dropped an atomic bomb my room and I need to let the smoke clear.”

“Sure thing. When should I break the news to Bongo that he missed a chance to see  _ The Vampire Queen  _ semi-nude?” 

They looked down at their friend, oblivious and still engrossed in the game. 

“Probably never.” 

They could faintly hear Bongo respond with a non-committed  _ Huh?  _ As they shut the door to Keila’s room.

 

Marceline and Keila had been best friends and bandmates for years. More recently they had become roommates and coworkers when they had decided to move to Ooo to give their band, The Scream Queens, a shot at the big time. She and Keila had similar style and often traded clothes. She was sure she’d find some of her own things in Keila’s closet. 

She found an old oversized plaid flannel she used to wear all the time. She had ripped the sleeves off so it was more of a vest now. She took Keila’s black turtleneck that said  _ bitch _ in white embroidered cursive at the neck off a hanger. 

 

“Sure, steal my best thing.” Keila joked.

 

Marceline pulled the turtleneck over her head and put the shirt on top of it. She found a pair of black cropped dress pants with her wallet chain attached to them and picked them up off the floor near Keila’s bed. Then she found them. 

 

“ _ Your  _ best thing! What about mine!” Marceline retorted.

 

She held up the pair of platform docs with velvet batwing details on them. She pulled them on shooting a mocking glare to Keila who had since acknowledged defeat. In the platforms Marceline who typically stood at 5’9” was nearly six feet tall. It was a daunting look and one she had been missing since the platforms “disappeared.” 

 

“What are you up to today, Marce?” 

“I was thinking I’d put up the last of those fliers for the Derbaderb on Friday.”

“You mean that crumpled trash pile in the kitchen is meant to get people  _ to go  _ to an event? Not avoid it at all costs?” 

Marceline rolled her eyes.

“I’d print more but the team budget is like nothing. Actually. Not a simile. It literally is nothing. I had to use my meager graphic design skills and the copier in the backroom of the Nightosphere.”

“I looked at one, Marce. They look like an actual serial killer made them. Like want to be kidnapped, oops, I mean watch roller derby?” 

 

Marceline knew her friend was right.

“Jeeze, stop harshing my mallow, Keila. They looked loads better before I dropped them when some psycho in James Baxter Square Park jumped at me from a bush brandishing a knife or some shit.”

“A KNIFE! Marce!” 

“Well it was more like she was brandishing a popsicle stick. It was dark! But still, you don’t know what she could do with it! Some truly insane people live in Ooo. I’ve seen some shit! Like that dude they call Door Lord in the neighborhood. He mumble-screams at you, steals your sick ass chopped cheese, and disappears over a fence or something. What the hell is up with that!”

 “Yeah it does happen like almost every time…” Keila scratched her chin, reliving the dark memories. “He’s so damn fast…”

“Point proven.”

 

Marceline was satisfied with her look and went into the kitchen to make a pot of black coffee. While it was percolating she sorted through the fliers tossing a few illegible ones. She thought again about the girl in the bushes. The way she frantically crawled around on the ground helping when most folks would have just left. Did she have an accent? German? Probably one of the silver spoons who go to Ooo U for like 80k a year. Lots of international students. Privileged asshats with crystal clear grey eyes and almost cherubic pouty lips. Marceline shook her head to shake off the thought. What a total whack job. 

She poured herself a cup of Folgers and it was utter shit. If this was someone's “best part of waking up” they should definitely go ahead and kill themselves. Today it was particularly bad, though. 

“What the fuck is up with the coffee maker man! This coffee tastes like ash...” 

Ash then appeared out of her room as if on queue. 

“Did someone yell my name? Is breakfast ready, babe?” he responded. He was still shirtless and scratching his armpit. His beer belly was starting to sag over the front band of his boxers. Foreshadowing things to come. Marceline was about to lose it.  

 

“Did someone do something unholy to the coffee pot?” 

 

Bongo looked up from his unpausable game because he was now more terrified of Marceline than literal demons. Everyone in the room suddenly looked really guilty.

 

“Did anyone  _ not _ do anything weird to the coffee pot?” 

Keila’s face turned beet red. She looked both ways and dashed into her room and locked the door.

“Ok, I don't even want to know...”

 

Ash looked at her. “I maybe used it to clean my pipe this week. Dude was filthy. Look! good as new!” He held up his pipe and took a hit off of it.

 

“Oh shit. It tastes super weird. Like…” 

Bongo looked down at his socks. 

“Hotdogs…?” 

 

Both Marceline and Ash glared at Bongo.

 

“Have you been cooking hotdogs in the coffee pot again!? We have a REGULAR POT. You know, the kind NOT meant for coffee and coffee alone.” 

“But it was dirty…”

“Dude, you don’t even LIVE here! Show some respect!” Ash said.

 

Ash looked back at Marceline self satisfied after berating Bongo for her. But Marceline was glaring at him too. 

“Neither do  _ you, Ash!  _ Seriously, your pipe! Do that at your own place!” 

“But It's too faaaaar from my MarrMarr! And I figured you owe me for getting you on a team and into the underground circuit.” 

He glanced at the ceiling innocently, and then back at her. She sighed. He was an asshole but he had connections. He was a half decent coach too, somehow. The team rarely won games but they were getting better each time. Their team,  _ The Princesses of Ooo  _  were always getting faster and hitting harder. Ash could look at another team and find the weakest person in the pack and take advantage of them, strategically. It was a skill he had nurtured in his life in more ways than one.

Though Marceline had moved from a garbage suburb of Ooo for the band she had found a new love in the high intensity sport of Roller Derby. She had first found out about it when she began working at the Nightosphere. The basement had been converted into a “standard” flat track. That being said it was nowhere near regulation. They were playing underground anyway, there were simply fewer rules. And fewer EMTs. A volunteer was usually on standby but most of the girls just walked shit off. That was part of what drew her to it. She had always been into skating to get around growing up. She even learned a few tricks. Keila made fun of her for it, saying how un-punk it was to roller skate around like a, quote, “Brady Bunch lookin’ Bitch.” Then when she and Keila realized Marceline could combine skating with her other favorite thing, physical violence, it was a no brainer. The bar also hosted rowdy bands, like theirs, to play before and between games. It seemed like the perfect way to get started in a new city.

After watching a few matches she inquired about which teams were looking for new members. They pointed her in the direction of The Roller-Stakes, a team that riffed all their derby names from mythic vampires. Her eyes lit up immediately and she knew that’s where she belonged. She showed the team what she could do on her skates at try outs one night. A person called The Vampire King was the leader of the team,a nod from them and she was on the team. The King was very short with her and and often kept her from the track all together if she got too rough. They were a powerful team, but they conducted their jams with elegance and tact. She learned to skate their way, but she never lost the fire behind her eyes and the anger in her heart that helped her push her way through the pack each and every time. They took advantage of that anger until they couldn't anymore. There are limits to everything, and Marceline had to learn that the hard way. 

Marceline’s head started to get a little foggy. She didn’t like thinking about what happened with her and the Roller-Stakes. It was a year back and she had been blackballed from the league for a few months because of it. She spent the time in between wallowing, and drinking. That’s how she met Ash. He had been the one to get her back on a team and back in the circuit. He was a jerk and a loser, but he did have a kind side to him, when their interests aligned. They had a few great months so far. No one understood what she saw in him, but after a particularly successful jam, he was amazing in her eyes. He had a plan, and it was working. He was building a team of the most ruthless Derby players in all of Ooo as a sort of renegade squad that could neither be stopped nor understood. The only rule : keep yourself clean enough to remain in the league, even if its  by the skin of your teeth. 

The team name,  _ The Princesses of Ooo,  _ was more than a tad irreverent. Most of the members of the squad had been arrested at least once, including Marceline. They were anything but princesses. They did, however, milk the image. Each team member (there are 14 per team) was the “princess” of something. They wanted to use the thing that everyone found the most abject about them and put it in the forefront. The tactic seemed to work wonders for pre-game intimidation. There was Flame Princess, the pyromaniac. Lumpy Space Princess who was really into psychedelics and a total brat on and off the track. Bandit princess made a great Pivot. She could nab the Jammers’ star faster than you could blink. Raggedy Princess just didn’t give a fuck and seemed to be both indestructible and about to fall the fuck apart at the same time. She once had a shard of glass sticking out of her body  _ for an entire game _ without noticing. Ghost Princess was tres freaky, like  _ she even freaked Marceline out, _ but was super fast and nearly untouchable. Muscle Princess was a huge powerhouse wall. Hotdog Princess origin story was kept under wraps, but Bongo had dated her for a while. Maybe his sad constant hotdog thing was more of a broken heart thing? How could choking down 10 lukewarm hotdogs in one sitting be anything but depression? Hotdog Princess was out of control, for sure. Slime Princess was so rancid no one would touch her, making her an excellent jammer. The most frightening of them all was Wildberry Princess, who was rumored to have actually murdered someone and worked as a butcher at night. Like who the fuck had heard of a night butcher? There were many more, each one more batshit than the last.

Then there was herself. Ash knew what her name was going to be before he asked her to join the team:  _ The Vampire Queen _ . She cringed when she heard the name at first. It drew her back to a very negative time in her life. She also knew that people who had been watching the games for a while would know who she was, especially if she used that name.  _ The player too off the rails to stay in a league that basically has no rules. _ The name also reminded her who she was. After months of training she was just as good a player, if not better, than she ever was. Now, the rest of the team needed to catch up. 

She looked at the crumpled fliers. The Princesses of Ooo vs Break Fist at Tiffany’s. The eponymous Tiffany of the Tiffany’s was one bad motherfucker. They had even wiped the floor with The Roller-Stakes a few times. 

 

“Be sure to put the rest of those up today, Marce. We want to get a nice healthy cut of the door, don’t we?” Ash said as he flopped down on the couch next to Bongo. 

“People will spend a lot of money to watch babes bash each other, won't they?.” 

Ash simply nodded and Bongo then motioned for him to pass his pipe. 

“It does taste like hotdogs...sigh”  

 

She snatched up the remaining fliers and walked out the door. Those losers had poisoned her much needed, pure, honest, life-giving, coffee and the well of patience for foolishness had long run dry. She needed to leave before someone's idiot mouth made her commit triple homicide. She also needed to scream. 

Music may have been her raison d’etre but Roller Derby was her therapy.


	3. Fight Club meets Xanadu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn and Jake enter the scene. Bonnibel gets her nickname

Bonnibel approached the basement door of a small and packed dive bar called The Nightosphere. She had to walk sideways to even make her way to the unassuming entrance. A small rectangular hole slid open and she could see the strange red eyes of an older man looking at her from the other side. 

 

“Password?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” she exasperated.

“Need the Password to enter, lady. You look like a narc.”

“Is the password um…” 

She pulled out her pocket book. A tenner and a couple ones. Great.

“Uh,  _ Twelve super cool and awesome dollars just for you?” _

 

The small wooden door slid closed again. Really? No one said she’d need a password. She decided to wait for a few minutes on the off chance someone new coming up could let her in. She also needed this time to reflect on how the hell she let herself be talked into this. 

\-------------------------------

“Your slip looks terrible, Finn. It's all gunky and uneven. I don’t think you can save this by adding more. It's going to give us all nightmares.” 

 

Finn jumped from his stool. He hadn’t been expecting the older girl to be lurking behind him. 

 

“Yikes! Peebs! you can’t just hover behind people! It’s unnerving!  Also, hello! Fragile pottery here.” Finn gestured at the “pottery” he was constructing. It was indeed eldritch at best. 

Bonnibel didn’t love the nickname Finn had given her, but after a few weeks in class with him, she had grown to accept that there was no changing it. She showed up on the first day of class with one of her horrific princess pops and the name stuck. Princess Bubblegum. Which then became PB, then Peebles, then simply Peebs. Most of the ceramics class had picked it up by now, including Finn’s older brother Jake, who was the same age as her.

 

“Yo PB’s right my dude. That thing looks hekka curs-ed.” Jake changed his demeanor to that of an upper crust British gentleman. He mimed a monocle and a cup of tea complete with a saucer. Jake was great at impressions:

“For spring, one must have something lightweight and not too flashy to carry one’s curses in.” He took a loud sip of his ‘tea.’ It must have been a touch bitter by the way he smacked his lips after.

 

Finn barely cracked a smile and even looked a little sad. 

“You guys, it was supposed to be a pony.” 

Bonnibel and Jake both turned their head sideways. They could see how it could have been a pony once. But then it got cursed. Jake, on the other hand, was creating a complex and abstract piece. Bonnibel always loved Jake’s work in the class. It was the most original. He was capable of molding his clay to fit any shape he saw fit. Her only qualm? Though they took many forms, he actually only made one thing:

 

“It’s a bong isn’t it.”

A gigantic shit eating grin spread across Jake’s face. 

“The downstem and bowl goes in through here” He giggled and pointed to a small hole. 

“And that’s the reservoir.” he continued giggling like an idiot. 

 

In a lot of ways she could respect the craft. She found herself with the same reaction in her lab sometimes. In those rarefied moments when things would become clear to her, divine solutions, and she would giggle and laugh like a child. It was one of the things that made most of her fellow students taking labs wary of her. 

In the art studio, it was like her word was turned on its head. Most students laughed and joked. It was the antithesis to the quiet contemplative atmosphere of the science building. She knew she would like it here when she met Jake and saw he had that gift all the time. He had the ability to play, as did Finn. Something she had long lost, or, as she often thought, she never possessed in the first place. She envied them, and enjoyed the energy of being around them. It was inspirational. Like a hard reset for her general malaise. 

At first, when the school admissions counselor had informed her she needed an arts elective to graduate she thought she was joking. Bonnibel had adjusted her large round spectacles and laughed mirthlessly before turning towards the office door. It soon became clear she was very serious and she had to drop her Honors Abstract Algebra course and wound up in Professor Treetrunks’ bong forge with Finn and Jake Mertins. 

She decided she would not go quietly. What was the point of this stupid class? To make crap to send home to their families like preschoolers? This was a classical institution! Founded on the principals of Plato’s Academy in Athens! This was an outrage! She had then made the crucial mistake of saying as much to Prof. Treetrunks on her first day. The small elderly woman was a slow and gentle speaker with a prominent southern drawl, it had lured Bonnibel into a false sense of security. She soon discovered that the tiny woman could really dole out the pain when she wanted to. Bonnibel never spoke of her so-called “outrage” again. She later learned that Treetrunks was rumoured to have several husbands across the country, none of whom were aware of one and other. One was even an astronaut floating in space! Each class period got more and more interesting.

She began to look forward to the Wednesday night class after she found the day’s tension melt away when she was creating objects. This, too, could be part of the Work. Using matter to construct strange objects that didn’t exist before. When Treetrunks would fire up the kiln for a batch of various odd shaped vessels the students had made, the room would fill with warmth and the faint aroma of apple pie. No one knew its source but everyone agreed. Cinnamon and apple. It was delightful. 

The mood in the room today was significantly more chill than usual, and it was usually chill. She quickly discovered more than half the class came to the period stoned. That was probably the reason. She reckoned by the end of the semester she’d be the only straight student in the class. She laughed a little at the irony. Though Bonnibel refused to partake herself, she imagined the aura of stoned teenagers contributed to her general devil-may-care attitude with which she approached the day’s project. 

Finn had just sent his Devil Pony to fire and Jake was taking a break from his ethereal Cronen-bong to come and bother Bonnibel. She was adding a small and delicate antenna to a chimeric creature she was building when Finn laid a piece of paper in front of her. 

 

“You ever heard of Roller Derby, peebs?” Finn asked. 

 

Before her was one of the fliers that had blown across the square in the park across from her dorm. One of  _ her _ fliers. Bonnibel’s stomach flipped. She crushed the tiny piece between her tweezers. 

 

“Scheisse!” she growled. 

“I think it's like, I dunno, Fight Club meets like…” Finn scratched his chin in thought. Jake jumped in:

“Xanadu!”

“Yeah Peebles! Fight Club meets Xanadu. You in or are  _ you in _ !” Finn waggled his eyebrows suggestively. He was a funny kid, but a little clueless. 

“I know what roller derby is Finn, this person I used to uh _hang_ with made me watch the film _Whip_ _It_ several times.” 

Shoko was always a bit excessive. She hadn’t told Finn and Jake about her yet, she was trying to avoid it. She hadn’t really come out to anyone except her Uncle which had been a total disaster. She had only told him because she genuinely thought he wouldn’t care, he didn’t care about anything else that had to do with her. As luck would have it, he had wanted to set her up with a potential investors’ son named Braco. It really blew a deal for him. He never completely let it go. Ever since then she had been more careful, only coming out when she felt it necessary or if she trusted someone. 

She still wasn’t sure about Finn. Jake seemed a little more perceptive, or at least less naive. She might not even need to tell him. She was worried that Finn was developing a crush on her. Even more worried that in this moment he was asking her on a date. The thought cause her blood to run cold. She needed to stop this.

“Where did you find this Finn. It seems a bit sketchy. Like er “kindersnatch”

“We are not going to get kindersnatched! It was magical! We were partying in the park and these fliers surrounded us in a whirlwind! They were whispering “adventure awaits you, my child!”” Finn explained. He painted a vivid and very Finn-like scene. He was deeply spiritual in spite of being a Physical Education major. 

“So you were stoned.” Bonnibel noted with a nod.

“As are we now. What’s your point?” Jake responded.

“Fair enough.” she shrugged.

“There’s also another motive.” Finn said wryly. 

Bonnibel was sure it was coming. She’d have to turn him down. To her surprise Jake was the one to interject. 

“There’s this girl. She’s on the  _ Princesses of Ooo _ team. Maybe you know her, she’s a science major too.” 

He then began to describe a very cute girl she had seen in her lab. She was known for wearing a shocking array of colors. Even her lab coat was multicolor. She was also the only one who thought it was anything other than creepy when she would have a laughing outburst during class. She gave Jake a  _ Nice Choice  _ eyebrow wag that Finn didn’t quite catch. He received it with a beaming smile. Yeah, Jake wouldn’t need to be told. He was cool.

 

“Wait. so Rain does  _ Derby. Rain?” _ she gestured to just below her shoulders with her right hand indicating Rain’s approximate height. 

“For something like Roller Derby sometimes it helps to be small, I bet.” Finn thought aloud. He was really putting his PE major to work.

 

Bonnibel’s thoughts returned to the woman she had seen in the park. She was huge. Like close to six feet with the skates. Not small at all. She could easily pick her up. Carry her. Pin her against a wall…

 

“Yo, earth to PB. Is it a yes?”

“Ja Ja uhuh” she responded. She had completely spaced out for a few seconds. 

“Yes, you’re the best Peebs! I knew you’d help!” 

“Help? With what?” 

“Introducing Jake to Rain of course! What we were just talking about, space cadet.” 

“Oh. Right. Right.”

\---------------

It was Friday night and The Nightosphere smelled like old eggs and piss. And yet, everyone around her was having a brilliant time. The bar was wall to wall patrons. Several men, and women, brushed her ass on her way to the basement door. Whether it was on purpose, or compulsory she had no way of knowing. 

On the subway ride to the bar she had a few dark thoughts. What if the girl she had seen wasn’t even here tonight? What if she was just putting up fliers as a favor? Then she had to remind herself that she was here for her friend, Jake. She wasn’t here to see Black Lace Bra, definitely not here to catch a glimpse of Bare-Midriff McAss Flex. These were the names she gave the woman in lieu of knowing her real name and they didn’t mean anything. They were placeholders, mnemonic devices. Bonnibel was an extremely practical person, after all, she was able to categorize and organize vast sums of data at a glance using this method. Why not use it now?

 

And so she found herself before the unmarked wooden door waiting for a stranger behind a slat to turn a knob. She clutched her mauve teddy bear coat closer to her body. She was beginning to feel absolutely ridiculous. She pulled her tall knit cap over her face to hide herself. She waited a few more minutes before giving up. She huffed and her shoulders fell. She would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was totally crestfallen. Bonnibel turned to leave when the little door slid open again. 

 

“Hey lady, you’re vouched for. Go ahead in.”

“Huh? What! Ok!” She noticed she was a little too eager by the look of the doorman. She lowered the timbre of her voice.

“I mean, yeah sick. I guess I got nothing better to do. Shit.” She said while flipping up the collar of her jacket.

“Don’t make me change my mind.” 

She attempted to swagger her way through the door. She wanted to let any ne'er-do-wells know that she was not to be trifled with. She quickly found that no one was looking at her. They were all looking down at the huge flat oval painted on the ground. The room was extremely loud and hot. Really hot. Everyone was sweating even though it was nearing the winter holidays. She wouldn’t be able to wear this coat for long, and that was going to be a problem. 

Through some temporal miracle she was able to locate Finn and Jake in the stands. She had to shout to be heard above the cacophony of crowds and bashing skates. She looked down and didn’t see any familiar faces. 

 

“So, what was the password?” She yelled, still a little angry.

“What do you mean. Did they ask you for one? They didn’t ask us for a password.” Jake said. It dawned on her. 

“Maybe you should try looking less like a nerd if you’re going to go out to a bar. Things will go smoother. You look like a bottle of pepto. that will call the cops.” Finn teased. Bonibell was not amused. Finn looked like he wanted to shove the stupid little bear beanie he wore all the time down his own throat and never speak again.

“What team is this?” she shouted.

“I think they are called the Quad-Pieces? They’re pretty good! Our team’s up next.”

 

Bonnibel was beginning to get really overheated. The room was small and overpacked. She tried her best to catch a glimpse of the action on the track but she couldn’t focus. Finn and Jake were standing so close she could feel their body heat radiate into her. Her face was starting to flush, small beads of sweat forming at her temple. She removed her hat letting her long pinkish blonde hair spill down her shoulders in an overly perfumed flop. Finn’s expression changed after this happened, he too began to get a little red. It was like she was waving her pheromones in his face and he could not handle it. And it was only going to get worse.  

An Emcee of some sort was announcing the order of events. The next teams competing would be the headliners:  _ The Princesses of Ooo... _ to her surprise, the crowd began to boo. Jake looked pretty miffed. Would he really fight this crowd for Rain’s honor? 

“Yo dudes, maybe it's like wrestling. They just  _ play _ bad. Its a character! The crowd loves it!” Finn shouted. “Hey PB, do you want to take your jacket off? It's pretty spicy in here…” 

The Emcee continued with the second teams name, which the crowd also booed at. At least they were egalitarian. She had reached a breaking point. She shimmied out of her jacket and Finn grabbed it for her. She was ready to let it fall to the floor out of desperation knowing it would probably stick there. She was seriously about to pass out. Finn’s eyes then went as wide as saucers. 

She was wearing a cropped baby pink sleeveless t-shirt. The arm holes were cut deep into the side of the shirt revealing a cream lace bandeau under it. The bra did not cover much, and it allowed more than a suggestion of what her nipples were doing to be divined from the front. From the side you could see her entire boob. This was not an accident, but a plan made with clear eyes and a full heart. She was practical, and it was better to be safe than sorry. She couldn’t show up in jeans and a pullover if Leather Pants was going to showup in Leather Pants could she? She could not and would not phone this in. The coat had covered her to just below the knee and Finn now saw she was wearing a pair of high waisted cream shorts that barely covered her ass. The cleavage where her ass cheek met her thigh was peaking out like a tender smile. Things were bad. 

 

“Um. wow. Bubbs. I take back the nerd comment. Uh” Finn stuttered. 

 

The teams began to skate out onto the track and get into their starting positions. She could see a little bit now that some of the patrons had returned to the bar for another beer between games. They started to lap the track each player getting announced by their names and their pseudonyms. Her eyes darted frantically around the track. She hadn’t seen her yet. Then it was like the world stopped for a moment. Like she was hovering in a void that had reduced to a single point.

 

“And last but not least, for the  _ Princesses _ , Marceline Abadeer, your  _ Vampire Queen!”  _

Leather Pants, no, Marceline skated out onto the track. She had the same cool poise she had the other night on her skates. She moved across the makeshift flat track so smoothly, like she was levitating. There was an intrinsic regality she seemed to possess when she skated. The kind of vibe that made Bonnibel weak in the knees and completely reverent at once. She had pulled a sock over her helmet with a red stripe down the center. She wasn’t sure what that meant but no one else had it on in the first set of players from the  _ Princesses _ . She was wearing knee and elbow pads, but not much else. She wore a tight black spandex sports bra and short bicycle shorts over fishnets. She saw the rest of the tattoo she had glimpsed at her wrist the previous night. It was just the beginning of a full sleeve that stretched beautifully onto her shoulder blade following the contour of her arm as she playfully flexed for the crowd and took a lap around the track. Bonnibel had forgotten to swallow for a few seconds, a bead of drool had formed at her lip before she finally snapped out of it.

She was feeling overwhelmed and light headed. Marceline looked up into the crowd and Bonnibel could swear she held her gaze for a minute before pulling up the bandanna she wore around her neck over her mouth and nose. It had a pair of neon vampire fangs screen printed onto it. The rest of the team did the same with masks that pertained to their various characters. The effect was mesmerizing. 

“Finn” She said

“Yeah, PB, what is it, you look pale? Can I get you anything?” 

“Yeah, a folding chair and a glass of water. I need to center myself.” He ran quickly to find the things she needed. She would no longer be able to see the track but maybe that was for the best. When he returned he set up the chair for her much to her chagrin. She sat down and began to regain her composure. She took a few drinks from the bottle.

“Right, are you sure you’ll be ok?” he looked at her with sincere concern, his eyes twinkling in the lamplight. She couldn’t let this situation go on any longer. It was getting too weird.

“Yeah I’m fine. I’m just way too dehydrated, overheated and like _uber_ _gay_ for this _entire_ situation.” She gestured with her open palm to the track while cradling her temple. At that moment two girls were forming a wall around another with a star on her helmet, smashing her between them. Sweat was flying and breasts were everywhere.

“Oh.” Finn said. He looked like he was doing complex mental math. 

Jake overheard and didn’t look like he was doing complex mental math. He grinned and mumbled “called it.” before he returned to watching the the game.

Bonnibel recovered after a few minutes but her ability to cheer with the crowd when  _ The Princesses  _ took the lead in the final jam was a little weaker than her intention. The crowd crawled down onto the track and began to congratulate the players. She took this opportunity to complete the mission she was officially here for. She became Jake’s wingman for Rain. After they had been introduced it became apparent they would have been fine without her. Bonnibel took the first lull in the group’s conversation to pull Rain aside. 

“I imagine it was you who let me bypass that dummkopf at the door. Thanks for that.” 

“Oh, what? That wasn’t me. I didn’t even know you’d be here. But when Ricardio described some lady cop type dressed in pink from head to toe who just wouldn't leave I did wonder…” 

“Oh. Then who vouched for me?” 

 

Rain gestured over her shoulder at Marceline. The bike shorts left nothing to the imagination. The reflected glare of the stadium track lights in the spandex highlighted the firm, pert curve of her ass. Was she lightheaded again?

 

“She asked if you were wearing a “dumbass pink hat with a pathetic bauble on top like a giant rich baby” haha she’s very mean. It’s funny.”  

Marceline was talking to a woman and two men. The woman and her seemed close. They were standing side by side. She began to get upset, spiraling out in her head. Is that her girlfriend? She’s so cool...Then an even worse fear was conceived of and confirmed when Marceline leaned in and kissed one of the men, one with a lazy mohawk, on the mouth and hugged him. She felt her heart leap into her throat and shatter. 

“Um who are those people she’s talking to.” 

“Oh, those are her bandmates, Bongo and Keila. She’s the lead singer of The Scream Queens. They play here all the time.”

“And that guy with the uhh hair?” as she spoke she made an unkind gesture around her head to indicate Ash’s bleached to death nest of a Mohawk. 

“Oh that’s Ash. He’s our coach. He put the team together.”

“Just the coach? You kiss your coach on the mouth after games? Can I see a rule book?” Bonnibel let out another mirthless laugh.

“Oh haha. Yeah they’re going out I guess? It doesn’t really make sense to me. He’s not that cute or whatever. But yeah, without the two of them, I don’t know what this team would be, so I kind of have to ship them. Marcelash? AshMaline? It doesn’t really roll off the tongue…”

“Sounds like barf” Bonnibel would not abide. 

She bid the brothers and Rain a curt farewell and grabbed her coat and jacket from the chair. This had been a massive waste of her time. She suddenly felt like crying. What the hell had just happened? She didn’t even know this girl. The train was running its late night route so it took her nearly twice as long to get home. The whole time she was considering the movement and flow patterns of the pack and the stylized geometry of the flat track. She needed to analyze the way the wheels slid through space. She needed to do something that wasn’t retracing the perfect C shape reflected in Marceline’s shorts or the hint of vulva she could catch beyond the lower bow of her ass cheeks through the gap in her thighs. Nope. She could not go down that road. 

By the time she got to her dorm she had compiled several pages of notes. She pulled up some videos on her computer and completed several more. Anything to not replay Marceline kissing Ash’s nasty lips in her head again and again. 


	4. !!Sh*tcano!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little plot and backstory from Marceline. We also meet a few of the other derby girls!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for reading and encouraging me to keep writing this fanfic! I'm having a great time, and I hope you are too!

Hormones. They could go fuck themselves. 

 

Marceline tried her best to take care of the massive subterranean zit forming at her jawline. She always got one in the same place on the first day of her period, and like clockwork, here it was. On the day of one of The Scream Queen’s bigger gigs too. They were opening up for a band that was becoming popular in the area, though she didn’t know why. Ellis loved them. She got the whole derby team to come see the show not for Marceline’s sick post-punk band but for the talentless dream pop band called Party Pete and the Bears. She had convinced a lot of the team to eat molly before the show too, so it should be a _really_ _great_ time. Ellis P. on extacy, she was going to get even more bitchy with a side of  extra touchy. She could see it now. Ellis rolling and Marceline with a case of girl flu and a shorter fuse than usual. Scary.

She wouldn’t have mentioned the show to her, or any of the team, if she didn’t have to. She had heard a rumor that a talent scout from Ice King Records would be attending the show. The more  _ fans _ it looked like they had, the more  _ clout  _ they were erroneously perceived to have _ ,  _ the more likely a label would be to sign them. She had brought it up after the game last friday when she and the  _ lads _ were all celebrating (read:binge drinking) upstairs at The Nightosphere. 

 

“Party  _ frikken’  _ Pete? I want to have his  _ abortion,  _ Abadeer. Why didn’t you tell me you knew a total dong-bomb like him?”  Ellis said, words running together like the tequila sodas she’d been chugging all night. She licked her lips disturbingly.

“Why doesn’t this _STANK_ _HOLE_ have any frikken’ _CHIPS!”_ she pounded the bar counter. Keila had returned to her shift after watching the end of the game. She looked pissed off, and that was putting it mildly. 

“I don’t exactly know him. I mean, I’ve seen him around. We just got booked on the same night at Gunter’s.” 

“You  _ have  _ to introduce me to him. I’ll get to know him. I’ll get to know him, bible style.” 

“What about Brad, Ellis?” Rain chimed in. 

“Oh, goody-two shoes with the classic _But what about Brad??_ I’ll just tell _Brad_ i’ve got _mad fire diarrhea_. He’ll leave me alone long enough to get what i need to done.”  
“How romantic.” Marceline scoffed. Rain crossed her arms and huffed. Everyone knew Rain was a serial monogamist.

“Shitcano! Works every time, ladies.” Ellis looked very pleased with herself. She had found another tequila soda. Her fifth. 

“And what do you know about romance, Abadeer? You only give Coach Boyfriend a second glance when we win a game. Or if you’re wasted. Usually both are required.” 

“Not everything is shitcanos and roses, Ellis. I’d suggest you just stay out of it if you know what’s good for you.”

“A nerve. Oooooh. Let’s  _ touch  _ it.” Ellis poked Marceline’s cheek. Big Mistake.

“Touch Me AGAIN! I DARE YOU!” Marceline’s face seemed to morph into that of someone she didn’t recognize. Her eyes almost seemed to smoulder neon green behind her narrowed lids. Her teeth were on display in a near wolfish way. She had prominent canines and could look very ghoulish when she wanted to. Ellis snapped her finger away from Marceline’s face, afraid the other girl would bite it off or something. She knew how impulsive her rage could be.

“You wouldn’t get it. He pulled me out of a very dark time, Ellis. Who knows where I’d be without him. Probably dead, or worse, back in the fucking suburbs.” Marceline was calming down now. “I owe him a lot.”

An eerie chill crept up Marceline’s back. It made her whole body shiver. A small and unnerving voice whispered in a way that uncannily managed to rise above the raucous din of the bar.

“Gratitude is a disease suffered by dogs.” the sound was only inches away from her ear.

“Jesus, Wendy. Don’t  _ do  _ that! Its CREEPY” Marceline exclaimed. 

 

Wendy, otherwise known as Ghost Princess, was dressed in a white gown with a high waist and hundreds of buttons. An ivory cameo brooch was positioned at her collar that seemed to glow like a white coal below her wavy auburn hair. The brooch was certifiably old, but the girl in the relief looked just like Wendy. Dressed as she was, it  was as if an 1800s oil painting had climbed out of the frame and into a dive bar in midtown Ooo.

“Yeah, dude, you don’t have to be in character all the time. The weird victorian ghost chick angle can’t get you that much d, right?” Ellis asked.

“I don’t know what you mean by  _ character _ .” Wendy looked up at the ceiling. Her small voice still managing to sound large and gravely. Her eyes rolled slowly to land on Ellis. “But as to the other thing, you’d be surprised.” 

Marceline and Ellis looked at each other in disbelief.  _ Ghost Princess fucks?  _ By the time they looked back Wendy was gone. Vaporized into nothing just as she had appeared. 

“Our entire team should be institutionalized.” Rain remarked. They all nodded in agreement. 

“I can’t believe she’s getting some and I’m not.” Rain said leadingly. 

“Oh bb girl! What about that  _ hunk _ you were talking to after the match? The beefy blond with the two losers. A stoner bearboy and some sickly German brain lord with her ass hanging out. Kinda slutty colicky baby vibe.”

“Oh, you must mean Jakeeeee” Rain replied. This was the direction she wanted the conversation to go. “And you should be nice about Bonnibel. She’s really cool. Though the brain lord thing is accurate.” 

“Bonnibel” Marceline said to herself. 

The other two girls began to gush over Jake. He was sensitive yet masculine. An artist. They squealed with glee. She couldn’t blame them, really. New love must be exciting. Had she ever felt that way about Ash? Or anyone? Love had been complicated to Marceline. What was the point of it? What was there to gain? When she had lived with Hunson, he always made her feel it was transactional. Functional. Like the dollar bill. If she was good in school, he would smile at her. It would be the best few moments of her life. Then he would look away.  _ But you must do much better than that if you’re going to amount to anything. _

Hunson Abadeer was her step-dad. She had never met her biological father and that is why she and her mother decided to take his name when they got married. A gesture of belonging. He was a very solid and reliable man. Her father had been noncommittal, mercurial and ultimately, a deadbeat. He left her mother and her in dire straights and extensive credit card debt. When Hunson appeared in their lives it seemed everything would stabilize. Then her mother passed away suddenly from an unmonitored heart condition. They had been too poor to go to the doctor regularly. Marceline was a very precocious 11 year old, but Hunson still didn’t know how to talk to her. He spoke to her like she was a tiny adult he had met that morning on the train. This man was now her only family and they didn’t really know each other at all. He didn’t want her to end up in the system, but he also wasn’t the type to understand how to parent a child alone. Marceline's mom had been so creative and loving. She was the person who introduced her to music. She taught her to play piano and write songs when she was feeling sad. She gave her tools she needed to survive the years after her passing. 

Hunson worked in advertising and was very good at it. In a lot of ways he conducted his home like an office and Marceline was his only employee. He wanted her to perform her best, but the icy separation of coworkers was still the norm. Hugs and unearned praise seemed inappropriate to Hunson. She learned over the years that his desire for her to excel was greater than could ever be achieved. His intentions may have been good, but it did not build a very supportive foundation. She did her best to be whatever it was he wanted her to be. She could never quite find out what that was because he remained a stranger to her. She missed her mother's calm voice. It steadied her. She could hear it resonate in her own when she sang, which she often did. These were the few times Hunson and Marceline would have an understanding.

Marceline tried for years to find a home in the cold house she was stuck in. As she grew into a young woman it became apparent she would have to go through all of the huge changes in her body and heart alone. She had nowhere to turn to. She tried to pry affection and interest from Hunson in a few last ditch hail mary moments. Academically, she took the ACT when she was 15 and got a 32. Hunson simply told her to take it again.  _ People always scored higher the second time. _ Financially, she started a part time job without being told to and accumulated a meager savings so she wouldn’t have to ask him for money. He didn’t even notice. She showed respect to him, calling him  _ sir _ as he requested. Nothing seemed to work. Keila’s parents were carefree and the comparison between their homelives was bleek and stark. She slowly understood that she could map the human genome and solve world hunger in an afternoon while riding a unicycle and Hunson would still ask her to work harder. She would still not be good enough for him to treat like a daughter and not just a coworker he wanted to get the highest efficacy out of. The frustration finally reached a boiling point when she was 17. She decided trying this hard was a zero sum game. It was a waste of her energy. She could be playing her bass or partying, or hell, napping. Anything was better than pounding her ineffectual fists against the brick wall of emotional repression that was Hunson Abadeer. 

She didn’t finish her last year of highschool and she still hadn’t gotten her GED at 22, even though she could probably pass the required assessments with her eyes closed. It was about seeing what would happen if she failed, if she gave up. What was so bad that Hunson would sacrifice care and support to protect her from it? She had been trying, been good, been patient, and kind for years. But what did she get out of it? Nothing. Love doesn’t just happen. You have to pay for it. Like everything else. And the price was too high. The suffering too much.

As the memory of her mother faded, so did her memory of being loved by her. Maybe, the truth of it was in the end, it wasn’t real at all. Love was just a word corporations used to sell condoms, alcohol, and movie tickets. Hunson would probably say the same. 

She looked back over at the two giggling girls. No she had never felt that way about anyone. Ash was good enough. He needed her, she knew that. He wouldn’t remember to take a shower if she didn't mention he reeked and push him off her at night. She also wouldn’t have derby without him. And derby was the place she could let all those feelings, about her mom, about Hunson, about work, about Love, implode. It was fast, it was unreasonable, vulgar and primal, it was perfect. That was simbiosis.

Then there was the time she had pushed it too far. When she had hurt someone bad on the track with the Roller-Stakes. She remembered the blood, the white club of bone jutting out of a girl’s wrecked arm like some fucked up cartoon. There had been no EMTs on the track that day. It was bad, but it only got worse. There was nothing she could do to take it back. The self-indulgence of power, and rage had been just as unfulfilling and catastrophic as the abstemiousness of kindness and duty. Both had taken away what she wanted most. What was left to do? Try not to feel at all? 

She knew Ash could be manipulative but he wouldn’t abandon her. Like her dad had, like her mom had, like Hunson had. Like derby had. He would never betray her precisely because he was a louse and everyone knew he was. Who could he betray her with?  And he had brought derby back into her life. For that she could put up with a lot. And she did.

 

Marceline looked  again at herself in the mirror. Her pale skin stretched over high cheekbones. She traced the line of her jaw. Her pale celadon eyes lit up in the mid afternoon light. This could be the night that changed everything if she only let it. Her horoscope (scorpio) had said that tonight would be a night of miracles. She had thought a lot about Ellis. About the way she approached her relationships. She envied her in a way. She was able to take each encounter she had that was amiable and even romantic and move on from it as if it were not the last chance she had at meeting someone who could love her. Marceline was badass but she could not be as flippant as Ellis. It hurt her pride. She hated that part of herself. She clung to whatever scrap of affection she could get. 

Today would be different, she swore. She would try to look at herself through a new light. She finally popped the zit she had been toying at for ten minutes. She pushed it until it bled. She knew then that it was done.


	5. Mollygagging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Marcy POV. Sex Drugs and Rock and Rolllll.
> 
> If you haven't guessed by now, half the reason this fic exists is so I can play dress-up with Marceline. So get ready for a wild lewk, perverts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics to the song are from Love Vigilantes by New Order. Marceline is a classic 80's loving goth at heart. Major Character Feels! Commence the fluff with plot.

The lights of the stage warmed Marceline’s skin and the body glitter she had painted onto her arms and stomach glistened like something out of a dream. The lighting and sound person, B-Mo, had done a great job as usual. The cool filtered blue washed the stage and made it appear as though the room were submerged in an aquarium tank. The wall behind them was decorated with old glass ashtrays that reflected light chaotically. They had wanted to make an impression, and they pulled out all the stops.

Keila and Bongo were dressed in all black with white faux snakeskin accents at the neck and wrists. Every member of the band was wearing a tall white paper crown and dainty little bat wings made of foam and coated in black glitter attached at their shoulders. Marceline was wearing a white sleeveless gossamer tunic with the bottom half unbuttoned. She had on a red spiked choker and faux snakeskin shorts on and a chain running from each front pocket to the back. She was wearing black tights with a thin red line up the back following the contour of her calf, thigh before disappearing into her shorts and outlining her ass. She also had black latex gloves that were pulled tight to her mid bicep. They stretched and pulled at her fresh acrylics as she strummed her ax-bass, a sensation she found extremely erotic, though she wouldn’t tell anyone. She had gotten her nails done just for the show, but they would most certainly be ruined after the gig. Keila was on the keyboards and drum machine, nodding stoically as bongo played guitar, his long curly brown hair obscuring his face. Marceline sang as she swayed gracefully in her favorite platforms as if under a spell:

 

_I want to see my family_

_My wife and child waiting for me_

_I've got to go home_

_I've been so alone, you see_

 

_You just can't believe_

_The joy I did receive_

_When I finally got my leave_

_And I was going home_

_Oh I flew through the sky_

_My convictions could not lie_

_For my country I would die_

_And I will see it soon_

 

The crowd cheered. As the band approached the second chorus Marceline began to become more aggressive with her singing, almost beginning to scream. She was fighting for the words to come out, tears began to form. Her dark black eyeliner (purposefully not waterproof) began to smear down her face:

 

_I want to see my family_

_My wife and child waiting for me_

_I've got to go home_

_I've been so alone, you see…._

 

They continued the song and the crowd became more and more rambunctious. They began to jump up and down and cheer. She screamed the final verse and choruses of the song, her tears flowing freely now:

 

_When I walked through the door_

_My wife she lay upon the floor_

_And with tears her eyes were sore_

_I did not know why_

_Then I looked into her hand_

_And then I saw the telegram_

_Said that I was a brave, brave man_

_But that I was dead_

_I want to see my family_

_My wife and child waiting for me_

_I've got to go home_

_I've been so alone, you see_

_I want to see my family_

_My wife and child waiting for me_

_I've got to go home_

_I've been so alone, you see_

_I want to see my family_

_My wife and child waiting for me_

_I've got to go home_

_I've been so alone, you see_

Everytime she hit the note on _alone_ she found a fresh wave of emotion from within her. _I’ve been so alone you see. Family_ came out as a light sob. When the song was over the trance she put herself into began to fade and she could recover. She was panting and wiping her wet eyes while facing the ground. They all placed their crowns on the floor in front of them. Marceline’s black hair fell into her face, sticking to her cheeks and red lipsticked mouth and moving with each staggered breath. The “house” lights were then triggered by B-Mo and the stage lights darkened. The crowns reacted to neon light they also triggered and it all that could be seen on stage were the three bright white crowns. The effect made it look like they had disappeared into nothing, the eery tall crowns the only thing left. The crowd cheered. They may have _really_ been there to see Party Pete and the Bears, but they wouldn’t forget _The Scream Queens._

Marceline was agog with the after gig giddiness she always got when a show felt as good as this one did. Her brain wanted to roll out of her head, and her heart was alight with leftover adrenaline. Her mood was still darkened from the morning brooding, but for now she would go watch a shitty band with her friends and maybe do drugs. She hopped off the stage from the side and slipped into the crowd slyly while the crowd continued to cheer.

She found Ellis and the other players cheering with the crowd. They slapped her shoulders and gave her hugs that she accepted without fighting, just this once.

 

“Oh. My. Satan. Marceline. I thought you’d suck, what with your taste in clothes and everything but that was totally amaze-lumps!” Ellis shook Marceline’s shoulders. Ok, maybe this was where she would draw the line.

“Stop trying to make _lumps_ happen, Ellis.” Phoebe, aka Flame Princess, responded. “But it was pretty hot, man. I’m really only into rap and doom metal these days but I can dig this.”

“Look who showed up, Rain.” Ellis teased. She pointed to Jake who had just managed to squeeze through the crowd to get to the girls. From behind him popped a boy she’d never met before and the girl who kept showing up at everything, apparently stalking her.

“Oh but he brought the two dorks. His kid brother and what's-her-name the brai-” Ellis began but she was interrupted.

“Bonnibel.” Marceline bluntly corrected her. She didn’t know why, exactly. Maybe because Ellis didn’t need to be such a bitch _all_ the time.

 “Right, Bonnibel, _whatever_. Who’s ready to do some drugs?! Woo!” she raised her purple-gel-manicured fists into the air.

“Ellis! Quiet down!” Rain warned. Ellis looked at the crowd.

“Pretty sure everyone here is doing this, don’t be such a spudlord.” Phoebe said.

“Did someone say something about _d’rugs?”_ Jake arrived.

 

He laughed a little bit before saying hello to Rain and giving her an awkward yet warm _hello_ hug. His little brother, Finn, she learned, looked high as hell already. Bonnibel looked like she was scared she was going to get stabbed while also attempting to look chill and fit in with the hip crowd with the collar of her shirt flipped up and an intentional slump in her posture. Her small hands toyed with something in her pocket.

She remembered Bonnibel looking a bit ill at the game that previous Friday. Was she sick? Did she get ptomaine poisoning from following Marceline on a tour of the bar scene of ‘the great unwashed’ in the city of Ooo? It made her feel a little bad, seeing such a nice looking girl getting in with such a rotten crowd. Then again she was getting in with Rain, the moral compass of the team, the only one who seemed to have her head on straight. Maybe it was her crowd who could be changed by Bonnibel instead of the other way around. She hoped at least.

 

“I’ve got molly! How many people have done this before?”

Everyone raised their hand except Rain and Bonnie. No surprises there.

“Ok well this stuff can be kinda strong the first time. So you may want to split your dose with someone. Also I wasn’t expecting the two extra _freelumpers_ so y’all chickens can volunteer to make up the difference.” Jake stepped forward.

“I’ll give mine to Finn and take your other half, Rain. Don’t worry. We’ll both take it slow. “

Jake was chivalrous, it seemed. Bonnibel then began to look around helplessly. Marceline felt a weird tug in her chest. Bonnibel then looked right at her, her lower lip honest to god _trembled._

“Here, calm down. Let me help. I’ll give you some of mine, you can take it as slow as you want.” Marceline said. She could slap herself. She was giving up _free drugs_ for this _twerp._

“ _Danke_.” she muttered cutely, like in a cute small way. Ok. She suddenly felt warm in the space behind her heart. Good deeds, eh? Is that what they feel like?

“Dang Jake, Rain must really be into you if she is willing to do something _illegal_ to appear _chill_ for _once, finally_. Welcome to the family, Lady Rainicorn.” Ellis slapped Rain on the back after she had swallowed her tiny sliver of a pill.

Marceline looked back at Bonnibel. She seemed so much like Rain. Why was Bonnibel doing this? She didn’t know her at all, really, but she felt this was uncharacteristic. Her prediction about her crowd bringing someone like Bonnibel down a few was perhaps going to be correct after all.

“You know you don’t have to do this.” Marceline said sincerely.

“You are, I can too. I’m not a wimp. Give me half.” She grabbed the pill from Marceline’s palm. “ _Prost_ , Abadeer.” She dry swallowed the pill and stuck out her tongue. Empty.

Alright then, maybe the pink baby outfits were just a kink or something. She had a pair on her. Marceline downed hers with the remainder of the vodka cranberry she was drinking.

“ _Prost, uh--”_ Marceline stopped. She didn’t know her surname.

“Betzler. Bonnibel Betzler.”

“Little Bonnie Betzler. Cute.” Bonnibel colored instantly. It was really charming. This girl couldn’t handle anything, did she know how to talk to strangers without exploding? As sensitive as she was brave, it seemed. Her cheeks were flushing even more when Bonnibel looked at Marceline noticing her blushing. She couldn’t help the rakish grin that found its way to her mouth. She would have to see how often she could make her do that. What a goofball.

 

The drug spread calmly across the backs of the friends’ brains. It was like dunking their minds in a warm tub of water when they had forgotten they were freezing. The sensation of thought began to tickle the inside their skulls. It was kicking in. Marceline started to feel it. And Bonnibel seemed to too by the wide smile that seemed to be glued to her face. Marceline really knew she was rolling when Party Pete’s lame looping beats started to sound _good._ Like _so good._

She looked around and everyone was dancing. Jake and Rain were getting closer by the second and his brother Finn had found his way over to Phoebe. They were making up silly dances together, it was kind of adorable. She briefly thought about Ash. The pill Finn ended up taking was supposed to be his. He rarely showed up for her gigs but it’s weird he didn’t make it to this one. He was one to never turn down free drugs, good deeds be damned!

The thought was quickly replaced by Bonnibel. She was dancing to the music and Marceline was still trying to hold out. She promised herself whe wouldn’t dig this concert. The final straw was seeing Bonnibel dance. She weaved her arms above her head in an almost snake like movement. She began to slither her body lower and lower until her short pleated skirt almost dusted the dance floor. It was amazing. Marceline could feel the pleasure tickle the inside of her skull as if someone were jerking her brain off. Thanks, drugs. Bonnibel was a great dancer, great enough to make her want to dance too.

She stepped closer to Bonnie, she liked the diminutive of her name a lot better. It seemed to suit her. Marceline began to sway like she had on stage, slowly at first. The trance-like effect of the looping music rolling over her like wave after wave of joy. Bonnie was closer now, the loose hem of her top allowing her firm belly to peak out from between her shirt and skirt. She had quite a spattering of small freckles just below her ribcage. As Marceline was examining these, the smaller girl was beginning to sweat, a single bead accumulated at her chin before falling to the ground. Her body heat was radiating directly into Marceline as if she was marinating her in her aura. Every now and then Bonnie would look up, her intelligent grey eyes fixing themselves on Marceline’s, it was an intense moment. A person, looking at another person, looking. The joy she was experiencing felt nearly climactic. Every time she would think she couldn’t feel any happier, she would get even higher. Maybe there was something to dancing. Who knew?  

They began to dance closer to each other. All of the other people they were there with had long since started dancing with one and other. Marceline stepped closer to Bonnie and attempted to duplicate her serpentine gestures. A fog machine started up and soon the entire room was obscured except for what you could see immediately in front of you. For Marceline that was Bonnie.

She continued to copy her movements. There was a sort of slow magnetism to the room. It felt as though they were the only people in a dream like fog. They continued dancing, every now and then their breasts would graze one and other and it shocked her. Not in a negative way, but in a way that surprised her. She had danced with many people before, and touched many boobs in derby scenarios. Been rammed in the face by several pairs, but this was different. It made her breath hitch in her throat.

She got distracted and caused both she and Bonnibel to go off rhythm as a song came to an end. Somewhere in her heart, Marceline hoped it never would.

“Oh, sorry, I’m not a great dancer.” Marceline said, which wasn’t entirely true.

“It’s ok. The pleasure of dance comes from its unpredictability. The reason we like to dance comes from inherent pleasure of music, yes, in our orbitofrontal cortex and the ventral striatum. But it also comes from mirror neurons and the brain’s mysterious love of movement. We love dancing when we see others dance because our brain tries to predict the movements and what we ourselves would do if we decided to dance. Dance is more fun to do with others around, and the most fun is the different conclusions we come to due to mismatched predictions of movement.haha All dancing is a mistake, or it's not really fun!”

Marceline listened intently, the warmth finding its way behind her heart again. Wow she really was a brain lord.

“I’m sorry. I tend to get a bit long winded. I study movement, well movement is one of the many things i study.” Bonnie looked down at her hands.

“I see. So you were exercising your expert understanding of kinetics when you fell flat on your face the other day from a full stop standing position? Isn’t an object at rest supposed to stay at rest or some shit?” The urge to tease her was impossible to ignore.

“I never said I was athletic. And I would be one to contest Newton's First Law with the plausible contradiction of the unresolved origin of movement. If mass can exist without movement but movement cannot exist without matter, what cause the first movement if movement is a force on matter and not vice versa?” Marceline was sorry she made the joke. Her attempt to learn something on a dance floor was not that solid.

“The movement I study is more related to abstract objects and theories anyway.”

“Well, you seem to be able to dance without hurting anyone. I was a little worried I’d walk away bruised again.” Bonnibel grew red at that joke. Marceline did too, to her surprise, as she took in the unintentional sexuality of the sentence. Where did that come from? She laughed to defuse her own discomfort.

“Eh. Clubbing is a little easier for me. I grew up just outside of Berlin, after all. It’s what my people do. Also, I think one scrape caused by you is enough for this week.” Bonnie held out her arm. She did have a nice bit of road burn near her elbow. Marceline held her arm in her hand. The warmth of her skin radiating through her gloves.

“You poor thing. I was so mean to you.” Marceline said, without meaning to. It seemed like she was at the point in her trip that she would say anything that was on her mind without being able to consider it first. It was about to get even worse.

She felt the urge to kiss Bonnibel’s injury to apologize for causing it, and help make it better in a juvenile playful way. Before she knew it, she discovered she wasn’t just thinking it. She had done it. She had just kissed this girls _fucking arm?_ What _the fuck was happening!_ Her eyes suddenly went wide and her entire body tensed as stiff as a board when she realized what was happening. Her head that had bowed to perform this strange task shot back up to her full height. Ok. Maybe molly was bad.

Bonnibel looked up at her. Their eyes met and something in the air changed. She couldn’t tell what it was. Molly amplified everything right? The sensation of touch, of warmth, of boobs. Of lidded grey eyes meeting green, of a bottom lips being absent mindedly bitten by clumsy girls you just met?  It even caused tachycardia,right? Her heart was palpitating. It must. She let go of the other girl’s hand. Molly was definitely bad.

 

“Hey I think i’m going to use the bathroom. Uh-” Marceline said abruptly.

“Oh-ok. I’ll be with the others when you get back!”

 

Marceline traveled through the crowd alone. She began to feel weirded out by everyone, and a little sleepy. She was coming down. She was torn between regretting only taking half and being grateful. She went inside of the all-gender bathroom that had two stalls and a urinal. This dive wasn’t so progressive as much as they just didn’t want to have to pay for two bathrooms. _Gender was a scam invented by bathroom companies to sell more bathrooms._ She thought.

She slid past a person using the urinal and to the graffitied wooden door to the first stall. Neither of them really locked so you had to push the door slightly to see if someone inside kicked back or yelled at you. She could tell the first stall was occupied by the way someone both kicked and yelled _back off, pervert_ at Marceline. The second one swung open with no push back. She wished it hadn’t.

Inside the stall she could see Ash’s bare ass contracting as he was ramming himself into some girl with long deep auburn hair. Her long skirt was heaped around her ass and he was fucking her through a pair of crotchless pantalettes that looked like they were legit from the 1800’s. She didn’t know what to do, or how to react. Ash was boning fucking Casper. Busting a fucking Ghost, alright. She was so overwhelmed by lack of surprise tinged with humiliation and disgust and she could only swallow and try to get a sentence out.

“Hey Ash, Wendy. No wonder you were late. You missed the show. And the molly.”

“Huh?” Ash said. Then he looked over and saw what was unfolding.

“Shit. Mar mar.” he pulled his dick out of Wendy with a resonant _schlopp._ He turned to talk to her, his track pants still around his shitty normcore new balance sneakers.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. It was the first time! I swear. I made a mistake.”

“No it wasn’t.” Wendy said emotionless as she adjusted her skirt. Marceline felt her heart jerk to the left. The person in the stall next to them yelled _Oh shiiiitttt._  Great. They had an audience.

“Ok. ok. I know this all looks bad, but I was doing this for you.”

“What.”

The person at the urinal shouted _Boy, you’re gonna get it now. you better shut up!_

“I could tell you needed space, uhm, sexually. I didn’t want to take any resentment I had about it out in our relationship, so I was trying to discreetly take care of my needs without infringing on yours! See! I love you Mar Mar!”

“I can’t listen to you tell me you love me while you have a half boner that is still wet with her haunted pussy juice. Her fucking ‘ectoplasm’” Marceline felt like gagging. “I’m leaving.”

She turned on her heel and walked out. The person in the stall was now washing his hands. “Oh man. You cheated on _her, at her own gig!_ You’re either the biggest idiot on the planet, or you have a death wish my dude.”

 

\-------

 

Marceline exited Gunters through the side door to the smoking patio. The air was cool and clear. She had quit a long time ago, but she was going to make an exception tonight. She bummed a cig off of a man with a short curly brown hair and perfectly circular blue tinted glasses. He a wearing a suit, but he didn’t seem stuffy. He somehow fit in with the scene.

“Your set was great tonight. I’ll definitely be following your music from now on.”

“Well that’s something.” Marceline laughed to herself without joy. The molly had definitely worn off. He snuffed out his cigarette and waved as he walked back inside the bar. She lit up and let the smoke fill her lungs as she closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose. How was she going to deal with this.

Bonnie walked through the door shortly after the man had gone. She was pulling the last few drags off her cigarette. Why had she quit again?

“Marceline! There you are! Where did you go? We’re all thinking about leaving soon. Are you ok?” Bonnibel asked so many questions.

“I was in the bathroom. And so was my boyfriend, Ash.”

“Ok” Marceline saw Bonnibels face change. She looked like she was about to get upset. She felt like she could just about read the emotion. Jealousy? She continued the story.

“And so was my teammate, Wendy.”

“Oh? Oh.” Bonnibel’s face changed back to the one of concern.

“And you see, I was the one who wasn’t invited.” Marceline said as she took a final drag from her cigarette and snuffed it out under her platform.

“What the fuck! That asshole! I-I can’t-” Bonnibel blew up. She was getting surprisingly pissed surprisingly fast. It was scaring Marceline a bit.

“He is such a gigantic loser! What does he think he’s doing! He’s no good, Marceline.”

“Hey. Tone it down a notch will you?” Marceline said with seething anger. The shadow of her ghoulish mood from the previous Friday returning. She really didn’t want to let Bonnie see this side of her, she was a nice girl. But Marceline was drunk, and coming down, and had just caught her boyfriend cheating on her with a poltergeist.

“I can’t stand it when people insult him. He’s not that bad! You don’t know anything. How many boyfriends have you ever had, nerd?”

“None.” She responded.

“Right. So you don’t know how complex situations can be! You’re a genius, right, but you say some stupid shit. You need to think before you speak. It makes you look like an idiot baby.”

Bonnibel remained quiet.

“You’re right, Marceline. I don’t know. And I trust you to do what is right for you.”

“Oh.” Marceline responded. She was used to the typical knife dance that occured when she unleashed the beast on others. They usually threw knives back. That’s how it works, right?

“Sigh. He’s the only one--i mean if he’s so bad and he’s the only one who loves me in this world, what does that mean?” Marceline said. She didn’t expect to say it, but if she couldn’t fight with Bonnie, she wanted her to try to understand.

 

“You’re not unlovable Marceline. You don’t need him.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, because I do. And the team needs him. I hate him, but we need him. No matter what bullshit he pulls, we need him to be the coach. We-I mean I-need him in my life.” Marceline responded.

“No you don’t.”

“Ok. So we’ll just disband the team due to lack of a stratego? I don’t think so. I am the best planner on the team and the last time I was given any strategic authority things went...awry.” Marceline wasn’t going to explain that situation to her. She wanted her to like her for some reason. A thing that felt uncomfortable to realize. Her lone-wolf ego was recoiling.

 

“No I mean I can do it. I can coach the team.” Bonnie said matter-of-factly.

 

“You? You don’t know anything about Roller Derby. And I don’t know anything about you.” Marceline scoffed.  

 

“That’s true, I didn’t at first. But i do now. Not to brag but I’m kind of a genius, you said so yourself, and it isn’t that hard to figure out. I brought something to prove it too." The shorter girl reached into her pocket and pulled out a little keyring with a pink cupcake attached to it. "Its a usb drive of some notes I took. Potential plans. I took some initiative." She blushed again.

"That you did." Marceline responded with a light chuckle. 

"And I’d like to, uh, know you. You’re kind of _magnificent."_

 

Marceline’s stomach trembled. What was that about? Bonnie stumbled over the beginning of the next sentence.

 

“Anyway, uh, you’re passionate about this. You seem to excel at everything you put your mind to and  It's exciting. It’s an energy I want to be around. I don’t know what the donk I’m doing with my life” Bonnie confided. They were trading vulnerabilities. Was this bonding? Without meaning to be Marceline grew quiet for almost two minutes. So many thoughts were rushing through her head.

 

“Marcy?” Bonnie checked in.

 

Marcy. She liked the way that sounded when she said it. The lilt of her accent adding a flavor to it she hadn’t known she liked. She crossed her arms and quickly hardened again.

 

“So you’re going to use me, eh? Been there, done that.” Marceline chided.

 

“We would support each other Marceline. That’s not the same thing.” Bonnie said with a tenderness. A simpleness. As if it all made perfect, obvious, sense.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> def google crotchless pantalettes. I am sad I wasted that fashion sense on a character you're not meant to like.


	6. The Catalyzing Agent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonnibel recalls her first gay smooches and gets excited to see Marceline again. 
> 
> This chapter and the next will be from PB's POV to give her some attention!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can always tell if its a Marceline chapter or a Bonnibel chapter by whether there are curse words or nerd shit in the title, respectively.  
> How many of y'all had heard of Xanadu before this fic? Any Olivia Newton-John stans in this dirty corner of the internet?

Bonnibel was walking to the bus stop after leaving Gunters. She couldn’t help the light spring in her step and the wide smile spread across her face. At some point, there must have been a bit of rain. The empty streets shone like opalescent black snakeskin. The lights reflected in the puddles dazzled her eyes. The hot pinks of neon signs and blues of barrooms blended for an exquisite and sensual drapery of purple light. Her brain was still coming down from being high on ecstasy, and the now, _this_ _now_ , was more beautiful than she could have imagined. The whole night had been a wonderful experience, she must remember this. She must remember to allow herself to be _simply_ _amazed by life_  more often.

She had a startling realization. It was only a little over a _week_ ago that she had truly believed she could never see herself dancing with abandon at 2 am. Yet she had done just that. She had done that and more with the hottest girl she had ever seen. A girl she had been so positive she’d never see again. How quickly life can change from one thing to another entirely.  

The outfit Marceline had been wearing for her performance had almost been too much on its own. It was made of pure sin, honestly. Then there was the way they danced together, however brief it might have been. The way their breasts and stomachs had pressed up against each other, sometimes hot bare skin grazing skin The way she smelled when she began to sweat. Her lips when she lightly kissed where she had fallen...Certainly that must have been the drugs. 

When she got home she discovered that her underwear was completely ruined. She tossed them into the hamper, her wrist flicking playfully as if she were shooting from the 3 point line. They landed _nowhere near_ the hamper. As usual. How was she going to coach a sports team? How had this all happened? She had brought the USB on the off chance she even spoke to Marceline at all. A hope she had hated herself for having because she was certain it would be dashed to pieces along with her poor helpless lesbian heart.

She had pictured herself, meekly holding out the childish USB drive to Marceline’s confused and condescending glare. She’d appraise the stupid object, and Bonnibel’s own losery visage, with venom. A sarcastic and insincere ‘thanks?’ would be all Bonnibel would get before she trashed the whole drive. _Some stalker gave me a USB drive with supposed derby shit on it? Is this how she plans to hack into the camera on my laptop and watch me masturbate?_  Granted, she could have programmed it to do that. Fuck. Missed opportunities...

However, hope had emerged triumphant. Hope is a funny, resilient thing that seemed to hold no evolutionary impetus. It was the emotional equivalent of a vestigial limb, she thought. Creatures capable of harboring as much futile hope that she carried when she started having feelings for a girl should have died out at the dawn of time.  She had anticipated the separation caused by the other girl’s popularity to be just the same as it was when she had gone to watch her roller derby game.

Things had gone her way, this time, more or less. For that she was grateful, and still a little flabbergasted. As hopeful as she was, she was also a realist. This meant her inner world was almost always in turmoil. In short, Bonnibel was an anxious mess constantly _especially_ when gorgeous green eyes and an ass like Marceline’s was involved _._ It had been a wonderful night, sure, until the whole thing with the _yelling_ and her _boyfriend?_ Maybe ex-boyfriend? And now she was going to be her coach _, maybe?_   Marceline would be running around in those goddamn _shorts?_ She was going to get sued for sure.

At best, she’d need to bring extra pairs of panties to practice. She really could be a miserable helpless puddle of horniness when the right girl came along. She really hoped it wouldn’t become a problem.

She was getting ahead of herself. She often did that. Her brain was her master, and it often tried to outsmart her gut. It would tell her why a thing could never be before she even allowed herself to feel the joy of wanting anything. Of pure blind anticipation. _Of course_ , her brain reminded her, _Marceline could hate what you came up with and not fire Ash_. Yes. That was a possibility.

But for now, she was going to let herself experience the panic, excitement, and butterflies that came from the knowledge she would be seeing Marceline later that week to go over what she had given her. Good or bad, she would see her again. That could be enough for now.

She jumped into her bed and buried her face in her pink pillow. She thought back on the night. How many times had Marceline smiled at her? Her bright little canines shining in the strobe. She had a slight gap in her front teeth she hadn’t noticed before. So. Cute. She squeezed her pillow to her face and squealed into it, kicking her slippered feet onto her bed as hard as she could. She felt more like she was 16 than 21.

That’s when she had met Shoko, the first girl she had ever dated. They were friends at first, then it started to change. Started to grow into something more. She had been staying over at Shoko’s one night and they had decided to watch a movie together. Her dad was out of town for business. They hadn’t planned it or anything, they spent many nights just like this, curled up together on the couch, sharing a blanket and a bowl of popcorn, where nothing happened.

That night the fact that they had the house to themselves meant something it didn’t mean before.

It was an unspoken thing. The contents of the film started to dissolve into meaningless garbled sound and image. Shoko’s foot playfully crept over to Bonnibel’s, tapping the top of it.

 

“This movie is boring,” Shoko noted.

“We could do something else?” Bonnibel said absently.

 

 Shoko turned then and looked at Bonnibel. Her dark brown eyes seemed endlessly deep. Bonnibel’s heart was racing in her chest. She felt like she wanted to throw up or scream.

 

“Like w-watch something else.”  
“I don’t want to watch anything else, Bonnie.”

 

Shoko slowly closed the space between them and kissed her. Bonnibel had somehow been expecting it. Or her body had, even if her brain hadn’t acknowledged it. It was why she was drawn so magnetically and unprecedentedly to Shoko. She had spent more time with her than she had with her other school friends combined in a tenth of the time. This had been the secret. The catalyzing agent.

Bonnibel instinctually kissed her back. She found she just _knew_ how. Her body began to feel things she had never experienced before. She felt like a different person and more like herself at once.

The other girl's tongue entered her mouth. Bonnie returned the gesture. Their kissing became more and more heated by the second. She was making out. She was making out for the _first time_ and it was with another _girl_ and it was _amazing. Un-fucking believable._

The other girl let out a small moan that seemed to be involuntary. Bonnibel felt something that could only be described as liquid heat pooling in her lower abdomen. It was something she had briefly experienced when she saw a pretty girl on television, or when her science teacher bent over to pick up a wayward whiteboard marker that had fallen to the ground. Her round ass tapered at the waist in a pencil skirt on display for the whole class for a millisecond. She sometimes discreetly knocked a marker to the ground before class began in pursuit of this elusive sensation. Now she was feeling it for long minutes at a time and it was fantastic. She wanted this always.

 

“Shoko...Shoko...” she rasped between their fervent kisses. She had never heard her voice sound like this.

“What’s the problem, Bonnie? Did I make a mistake?” Shoko stopped kissing her, Bonnie saw the fear in her eyes and felt terrible.

“No! No! God no. It’s just, I need to say something before we keep doing more of _this_.” Bonnie said, reassuring her.

“And I definitely want to do as much of _this_ as possible. It’s just--- Shoko, I think I’m gay.”

 

Shoko began to laugh uncontrollably. Bonnibel began to pout harder than she ever had in her life.

 

“Hey don’t laugh. I’ve never said that out-loud before. Or in-quiet for that matter…”

“Oh, Bonnie. Only you would stop a hot gay make-out session to announce how equally hot and gay it is.”

 

Then they were both laughing together. They let their bodies intertwine and their mouths found each other again for the second of many many times that night.

 

She wasn’t sure where Shoko was now. They had broken up when Shoko went to college. She was a year older than Bonnibel. It was a very miserable time for Bonnibel. Shoko swore she’d find her after she graduated. A dream Bonnibel had held onto for dear life the first six months or so after Shoko had left. Over that time they fell out of touch. Presumably, because Shoko had found someone else who wasn’t keen on her sexting her little high school girlfriend. It was devastating. Bonnibel had had a few flings with other girls since that time, but her time with Shoko was the closest thing she’d experienced to a long term relationship. She tried to put the concept of dating out of her mind. She would just focus on The Work. That was what had mattered. It was the reason she was here, after all. It was a foolproof strategy.

 

But then there was this week. This singular week. No one had called her Bonnie since Shoko. No one, until Marceline Abadeer. Bonnibel had a hard time falling asleep that night, her heart was singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the comments and kudos! I've been really enjoying accidentally staying up until 4 am working on this fic each night when I've got work in the morning! For you guys, the world.  
> If you like the story so far, please leave kudos or a comment! They really make my day!


	7. Nom de Guerre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok. So I said only this and the previous chapter would be from Bonnibel's POV but I have had wine and now it is not so.  
> Also, for my own peace of mind it is not Bonnie's POV but Bonnie's Third Person Limited, so don't get it twisted. 
> 
> The main thing I want to say is that there will be one more chapter focusing on Bonnie after this. 
> 
> Also I don't wat Sex and the City or The Bachelor so don't @ me. Here we go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg I love this ship and everyone who loves it like so fucking much. Create, Read, Ship more Bubbline forever!
> 
> I completely made up all the science. I love making up science.

Bonnibel showed up at The Nightosphere thirty minutes before she needed to be there. She juggled a travel coffee mug, a box of donuts, and a binder full of plays while she attempted to open the front door. It was locked. Of course. She didn’t want to have to wait out here with all of this stuff. The clouds looked like they were ready for a shower at any moment. This was not a good start. She gave the handle another frantic tug.

She heard the sound of a few chairs being moved inside. The door handle rattled and opened.

“ Give your liver a break. We don’t open until 5 you drunk bastard.” Marceline looked up.

“Oh, you’re not Nepter.”

“No. What’s a Nepter?”

“You don’t want to know.”

 

Marceline held the door for Bonnibel so she could walk in without dropping anything. She could be a gentleman sometimes, under the right circumstances.

 

“Sweet. You brought donuts!”

“It seemed appropriate.” Bonnibel laughed. She held up one of the donuts and put her finger in the hole. She then girated it on her finger to make it spin.

“Get it?” Bonnibel asked jubilantly.

“Uh. Fingering?” Marceline purposefully guessed incorrectly, a smirk forming on her face. Bonnibel guessed Marcy could be something of a class clown. She tried her best to ignore how hot her face was becoming. Already?

“No, you deviant.  Like Wheels! Did you even look at my files?” Bonnibel steadied herself. She picked up the binder off the table she had placed it on and flipped through the pages.

 

“Of course I did, Bon, but some of the stuff you wrote looked like gibberish nonsense so I gave up.”

“You mean German?”

“Oh. Right. Well it’s a little much, isn’t it? With the laminated pages and the little hole punch protector rings. It’s all very impressive! But I’m like not _into trying_ if you know what I mean. I like to just let stuff play out”

“Then I suppose that's what I’m here for. I’ll do all the trying for you.”

 

She opened the hefty tome to a specific spread. There was an isometric drawing of what appeared to be the underside of a derby skate. The parts were exploded out and labeled _in English by the way_ , across the page. The large text at the top read _Goliad v.1.0_

 

“So as you know a quad roller skate consists of sets of axles, bearings, trucks, and wheels attached to a metal base plate under the chassis. These all work together to optimize the performance of movement. What I have here improves on that even further.”

“How so?”

“Hand me your skates,” Bonnibel told her. Marceline did so, with a slight pout on her face.

“Oh wow. These are … well loved?”

“Watch it, Betzler. Those things have kicked more ass than you’ve ever dreamed of.”

“So butch! But you underestimate the amount of ass I’ve dreamed of, Marce.” Bonnibel said, with an amount of confidence. She was about to make Marceline shit herself with glee due to her designs, so she was feeling a little more confident than usual. “So if these weren’t held together with duct tape and a prayer they would work more like what I described just now. A serious propulsion system But what if we experimented a little...”

Bonnibel removed the small backpack she was wearing and brought out a box.

“I have many resources at my disposal at my university. I was able to sketch up and prototype most of the components depicted here.” Bonnibel pointed quickly at the diagram then got out a skate key and began to dismantle Marceline’s skates.

“No! Bonnie! My babies!!” Marceline lost her cool more than she had ever seen her. She looked even more pale than usual.

“Chill out, Marceline. I promise even if the _Goliad_ components are not as good as whatever you’ve got going on here, which I _assure you_ they are, I can put your skates back together easily just as they were before if not better.” Bonnibel said with confidence as she tossed aside the worn and rusty pieces of the skates. “Marcy, is this a _paperclip?_ How are you not dead?”

“I may not be a total nerd, but I know how to make something work well enough.”

“We’re going to do much better than _well enough_. What I’ve constructed are a set of 97a wheels, which is what you have here already it looks like. Very hard, perfect for speed and grip on an indoor track. What’s different about mine is the density of the wheel. Pick it up.”

Marceline did as she was told.

“It weighs like, nothing.”

“I’ve made a wheel that adds about as much extra weight as that paperclip did to your skates. You’re going to be a fucking death cheetah on these things, Marceline.”

“Wow, Bon, this is…”  
“There’s more. I’ve also improved on the bearings. The typical quad bearing has an ABEC rating of around 9.” Bonnibel held up the bearings she had created. They were so new and smooth. Marceline’s eyes twinkled when she saw them. It made Bonnibel proud.

“The ones in the _Goliad_ components are around 13. The same level of precision one would find in the electric motor of a luxury automobile. They might even be better. Inside the bearing case there aren’t steel balls, as is typical in even the most expensive skate bearings, but _ceramic_. These are my own innovation that I thought of in my dumb arts elective. Do you know what ceramic bearings mean? They weigh almost nothing, polish themselves and have so little friction they might never need to be maintained or lubricated!” Bonnibel was getting worked up. A grin spreading across her face. She did her best to hold back one of her quote “maniacal” fits of laughter. Science was just so much fun.

“I’ve improved the trucks too. Even made some small aerodynamic changes to the basepl---” Marceline stepped over to Bonnibel and grabbed her shoulders from behind.

“Shut up.”

She did. Except for the increased rate of her breathing.

“I’m done talking. Let’s boogie.”

 

Bonnibel watched Marceline lace up her old black skates, now with the bright pink Goliad components attached. The new shit looked kick ass.

“Do you know your typical lap time? Whatever it is, we’re about to cut it in half.”

 

Marceline pushed off from where she stood and zoomed forward. LIke really fast. Bonnibel had expected this, of course, but she didn’t calculate how strong Marceline’s legs were. She began to discover a crucial error in her plans.

 

“Bon! You gorgeous animal! These things are like skating on air! I feel like I’m hovering!” she shouted back to Bonnibel at the entrance to the track.

Marceline did a few laps around the track before realizing the problem too.

“Um. I can’t seem to stop, and I’ve got like a _shit ton_ of momentum my dude.”

“Yeah, your toe stops might not be strong enough to push back. The speed is too great. Sorry! Oversight.” Bonnibel shouted back. She quickly wrote some notes into her binder. _Don’t kill Marceline._

Marceline did a few more laps, trying to use as little force as possible hoping to let her momentum die down enough to stop without plowing through a wall. When that finally seemed possible she let herself tumble, somehow still gracefully, into the stands near Bonnibel.

 

“I’m so sorry, Marcy! So embarrassing. I’m usually so thorough.” She reached down to help Marceline up. Marceline dusted herself off.

“Since I’m going to be around you more often, I think I’m going to need to increase my health care coverage. You’re becoming a liability!” Marceline was being mean but it was said so joyfully that Bonnibel didn’t mind it.

“Wait. So does that mean I pass?”

“With this alone you’d be a zillion times better than Ash, in like every single way,  but I also took a look at some of your play strategies and they seemed legit too. Welcome to the Princesses of Ooo, Bonnibel Betzler!”

Bonnie beamed at Marceline. She could feel her eyes stinging. Was this really the time she’d cry? What a sap she was becoming. There was something here though. A purpose for the work she was doing. Something that made her proud to exist and continue existing.

The rest of the girls started to trickle in to practice. Ellis looked destroyed. The last time she had seen her she had been flashing her double d’s at Party Pete on stage at Gunter’s. Was that what every night was like in this group? Maybe she needed better health insurance too. _Scheisse_. There was a lot of work to do.

 

\----

 

The girls had been a little reluctant to accept _this lumping brainlord_ as their new coach. Word had trickled down about Ash and Wendy. Their mysterious absence from the meet confirmed the rumors. Anytime anyone (read: LSP) had anything shitty to say about the change in lineup, they got threatened heavily by Marceline. The rest of the girls were game for a change of pace. It was revealed that at some point Ash had made a move on all of them. Bonnibel felt angry for both Marceline and the rest of the team. She would strive to succeed even more now knowing what the team had put up with.

Unsurprisingly, Bonnibel turned out to be a pretty demanding coach. She increased their practices from one to two times a week. She produced enough _Goliad_ components to outfit the team and they needed to learn how to control the added power and speed before the next match at the end of the month.

The first few practice sessions had been a disaster. At least five of the girls on the team had hidden flasks in their bras and were taking swigs between each endurance and control exercise. By the end of the half hour of warm ups everyone was bratty and wasted. Marceline seemed to be able to control herself a little bit more. She accosted anyone who was too tipsy to do a non-shitty jumping jack. Phoebe accused her of being a “teacher’s pet” to which Marceline threatened to break every bone in her tiny body. Which is what Bonnibel would have wanted her to do. Not break bones necessarily, but keep the peace in a way she couldn't. So in a lot of ways she was doing the ‘teacher’s’ bidding.

If Bonnibel threatened to break any bones in a training session, it was almost certain the entire team would piss themselves laughing. She didn’t warrant fear, but she did warrant respect. When the girls learned to control _Goliad_ they began to have a certain amount of reverence for the new coach. She may be a little nerdy, She may use photos of something called a _Starbuck_ from  _Battlestar Galactica_ to try and get them motivated and horny for winning, but she returned results. Their lap times were faster. Their takedowns were more refined and every player could play any position leaving them capable of addressing any strategic weak points.

Finn and Jake started to appear at a few practices especially as they were nearing the next tournament. Jake and Rain had started dating officially. However, Rain didn’t want him to attend every practice. The last thing she would want Jake to see is her falling on her ass due to the lack of familiarity with the new skates she was learning to use. That’s what Bonnibel thought, at least. She would never want Marceline to see her fall on her ass. At least, not more than she already had...  

Marceline had picked up the new parameters of the skates so quickly it was shocking. Her body simply adjusted. It was as if they were meant for her. Bonnibel considered this. She was sometimes capable of waxing philosophical: _I perhaps am the brain, the mind, the temporal, the ephemeral, that is my center, and Marceline, perhaps, is the body. The corpus, the structure, the gut._  

Bonnibel had tried to relate this to Marceline during one of their practices.

“You really understand your body.” Bonnibel had said.

“Thanks, coach. If I didn’t know any better I’d accuse you of leering.” Marceline said playfully. Was this the way she had talked to Ash too? Is this how she related to her coaches?

“Not leering. Studying.” Bonnibel lied.

The girls had pointed out one day after a rigorous and productive practice Bonnibel’s lack of a _princess_ pseudonym. A _nom-de-guerre_ as they were called. Finn and Jake had been at that particular practice, sadly.

“Oh, that’s easy. She already has one.” Finn said.

“Really? What’s that?” Marceline asked because Bonnibel had looked suddenly ill at the prospect of the next sentence that would leave Finn’s oblivious mouth.

“Princess Bubblegum!” Finn announced. He was proud of the nickname.

Marceline clutched her gut and began to laugh so hard she snorted.

“That’s so _fucking_ perfect.”

“Bubblegum.” Ellis and Phoebe had both said. They joined in Marceline’s laughter.

“It fits _too_ well.” another teammate had said “What with the pink and the weird do-goodery aesthetic. I bet she has Radio Disney bookmarked”

“I absolutely _do not!”_ Bonnibel replied, resolutely.

“I bet she has a _robe_ and a _leopard print eye mask_ at home. Maybe a DVD box set of _Sex and the City_ for when she’s feeling naughty.” another said.

“ _I’ve had some wine, I’m feeling c-ray. I’ll pull up my tivo of The Bachelor_ and rub one out _”_ Phoebe chimed in.

“I do not watch the Bachelor. That show is--” Bonnibel tried to contest.

Marceline was laughing a bit too. Usually, she was her knight in shining armor against such attacks but this one did not seem to warrant a response.

The various stabs were coming from all angles at this point.  Bonnibel was getting riled. She hated this.

“Gott Damn. Enough with the blatant femmephobia. It’s trite! I’m fucking _gay_ anyway. Why the shit would I watch the Bachelor, or Sex and the City. The little attention they gave to queer women characters was either a one or two episode joke or blatantly divisive. So take your assumptions and shove them up your slut bitch asses.” Bonnibel shouted.

The rest of the group was astounded. Marceline’s jaw nearly hit the floor. They weren’t angry. In fact, they stopped laughing at Bonnibel’s expense and began cheering for her. Way to lay one on!

“Ok then, tivo-ing RuPaul?” another princess chimed in.

“Ok I can get with that, but he’s a problematic fave.” Bonnibel sighed. It was a starting point.

How had she landed with the least lesbian-culture-literate Roller Derby team on the planet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o
> 
> Leave comments, Kudos. Whatever. Make this worth it! this story is getting more and more huge. I need to finish it. I have deadlines! how am i already at 20k they aint even fucked!


	8. Derby Jesus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Halloween Party! And the first Derby match! and maybe a little something more ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonnibel's costume is inspired by the episode "Don't Look" when Finn sees PB as a "teen boy heartthrob" when his eyes get enchanted.

Their first derby match with the new lineup had landed on Halloween. It was not planned that way, as no one seemed to do any planning whatsoever in this goddamn sport, Bonnibel thought. She was most likely the only Type A in the entirety of the circuit. This must have been some sort of happy accident. The entire crowd was dressed in costume. The effect on the atmosphere was palpable. It felt as though the game were a sort of pagan ritual. Something that belonged to another time.

Bonnibel had always felt a sort of Goethean affinity to Halloween, the seduction of the possibility found in dark acts, consorting with devils and demons, appealed to her. He was one of the great poets of her homeland, after all. Halloween was one of her favorite days. It encapsulated the embracing of the known and unknown and with it the certainty of death. A pill too bitter any other day.

She had dressed up for the occasion as a twist on teen boy heartthrobs from boy bands of the early 2000’s she had loved growing up.  She wasn’t sure what had made her make this choice, but it felt right. She had slicked her hair back with gel for the appearance of short hair from the front. A few singular stands were left to fall in her face playfully. The rest of her hair tumbled down her back in wavy curls. She had applied temporary color to the ends of her hair that made it look a lot lighter as a reimagining of _frosted tips_ so that they looked cool. She wasn’t wearing as much makeup aside from a coat of wine colored lip stain so the multitude of freckles that were usually covered with foundation were on full display spilling across her cheeks forehead and nose. She wore a pair of tiny purple oval sunglasses, a necklace made of a series of silver metal balls, one small silver hoop earring on her right ear, and an iridescent deep purple suit with no shirt underneath it just her favorite wine-colored bra visible above the single fastened button of the suit jacket.  She felt sexy and ridiculous at once.

All of the members of The Princesses of Ooo had donned their typical character-based themed accessories but turned up a notch. Phoebe had brought orange bangles that light up her wrists and ankles that flickered like a flame. Ellis was heavily padded in more areas than just her boobs. It was hilarious and a brilliant offensive move. Marceline was wearing a pair of vampire fangs and long pointed latex ears glued to her own with spirit gum. She had thick black winged eyeliner that encircled her eye completely and was painted up to her eyebrow like a photo of Siouxsie Sioux Marceline had shown her once. Her green eyes looked almost uncanny in stark contrast to the whites of her eyes. Her full lips were painted a rich poppy red. Bonnibel had audibly swallowed when she saw her.

For the jam tonight The Nightosphere had decided to take it up a notch. They had installed black lights making every mark of unrecognizable goo stand out on the track, as well as the player’s uniforms. The team had applied black light paint to their bodies and the effect was intense. All of the players on _The Princesses_ had painted bright pink depictions of their bones from their deltoids to the tips of their wrists extending on to many of the girl’s regulation wrap gloves. The same was true of their legs from their shorts down to the tall socks with hot pink rings at the top. This must have been Marceline’s idea. She was always one to mix spectacle with a sort of oxymoronic macabre horniness that no one knew they wanted or could refuse. She did it with her band, with the derby team, even in her day to day looks. She tapped into something powerful and she knew how to use it.

Of course, she would pull out all the stops on Halloween. As the team approached their starting places, Marceline flashed her a devilish grin. The curios seduction of demons!   _Perhaps the devil is not as black as he is painted, but he is twice as hot._

The game was extremely fun to watch in black light. All of the player’s helmets glowing leaving trails on the track from the afterimage. The games were going even better than expected. Ellis was a great jammer and had the opportunity to go for a second pass through the pack on at least one occasion scoring them a total of 8 points in a single jam. That was something they had never been able to do before. They were just so much faster and could stop and turn on a dime. Marceline was playing the Pivot position tonight and had also been able to break through a pretty formidable wall put up by the Quad Pieces only to be right back behind them again for another lap within seconds. The star player had thrown her helmet on the ground in frustration on the sidelines. _So damn fast! How is this even possible._

The next few jams got a little rowdy, the other team getting increasingly more frustrated. It was as if they were playing a different sport now, one that they weren’t trained for. The same player from the opposing team who had thrown her helmet had slammed into Marceline so hard they actually had to put her in the penalty box, which almost never happened. However, Marceline was mostly unscathed and walked away with two small scrapes on her neck, and the other team was left without a jammer for a little while leaving them completely unable to score points for a full two minutes. If they weren’t already losing miserably they had no way of coming back now. As the final jam came to a close they walked away with more points than they had ever scored in the history of the team.

Bonnibel stood near a bench by the entrance to the rink when the girls all skated over. They were whooping and hugging each other. Ellis was screaming something unintelligible. They had won games before, but usually just by a point or so, not a _dozen or so_. Nothing like this. They were giddy and flabbergasted. As was she. It was as if a divine force had controlled their movements. They had been unstoppable! Bonnibel waited quietly enjoying the revelry of the team.

Marceline skated up to her positively glowing. She still hadn’t fully caught her breath from the track but that didn’t seem to slow her down now.  

“We did it Bon! You are Derby Jesus!” Marceline panted.

Marceline then cupped Bonnibel’s ass and lifted her into the air. She was pressed tightly against Marceline's chest. Her face buried in the othergirl'ss hair. Marceline then began to spin on her skates causing Bonnibel to need to grip the other girl as firmly as possible as her legs began to fly out behind her. .

It felt like everything was in slow motion. Bonnibel inhaled the scent of Marceline. Her post game sweat, the smell of the shampoo she used. Did she use Old Spice deodorant? She inhaled the other girl’s flavor profile as deeply as possible. She wanted to be able to _taste_ her. She held onto Marceline as tight as she could. Her hands had accidently slipped under the back of Marceline’s black mesh top. She could feel the outline of Marceline’s bra clasp under her fingers. She imagined it coming undone and falling to the ground by ‘ _accident’_. Her naked breasts exposed and only partially obscured by the mesh. Bonnibel’s mouth was near Marceline’s ear and she let out a little sigh. Her face reddened immediately. Had she heard?

When Marceline had completed the turn she placed Bonnibel gently down on the ground. Bonnibel’s hands lingered under Marceline’s shirt for a second too long. She could feel Marceline’s eyes on her but she dare not look. Marceline’s post game body heat was radiating into her palms. Her back a little slick to the touch. It was an unexpected turn on. _Wait. How long had she been standing here?_ Marceline’s hands were still on her lower back, though. Was she waiting on her? She began to let her hands slide down Marceline’s spine and back to the pockets of her suit jacket.

 

“Trying to undo my bra, Betzler?”  

“There is no try. If I wanted to undo your bra it’d be undone already. Fastest guns in the west.” She blew the tips of her pointer finger ‘guns’ and returned them to their ‘holsters’ in her jacket with an awkward little laugh.

“I don’t doubt it. They seem small and lithe. Like keibler elf hands.”

“Hey. It ain’t the size of the ship, it's the motion of the ocean.” Did Bonnibel really just say that?

First the fantasizing, and the near actualizing, now the blatant sexual banter. Was she turning into Ash? Does every coach of a team of hot girls turn into a sleeze at some point no matter how pure of heart they are? Was she the gay Artax and derby her Swamp of Sleezeyness?

As if thinking his name called him into existence like some shitty little Mxyzptlk, she looked behind Marceline and saw Ash standing in the back corner of the stands near the exit to the bar above. He saw her see him and he exited. That was like super weird and tres creepy. Marceline was still standing in front of her, a searching look on her face. She turned to look where Bonnibel’s eyes were trained and saw nothing.

The rest of the team began to push them towards the exit.

“Let’s get out of this shitty bar! It’s Halloween! _Let’s lumpin’ party!”_ Ellis said as if she ever needed an excuse to party.

 

A lot of the team along with Jake and Finn (who had congratulated them all obsequiously) had piled into a Rain’s station wagon together to go to some party. The bra flasks had made their triumphant return and were in use immediately when they got in the car. They had been benched for so long. The girls had missed them.

Bonnibel was the last one to get in and had to sit on _someone’s_ lap. It wasn’t her fault Marceline was the closest to the door. Marceline’s arm scooped behind her and held her firmly on the other girl’s knee.

“I’m glad you’re the one sitting on my lap.” Marceline said with a small smirk.

“Really? Me too.” Bonnibel said, with an audible sparkle in her voice.  
“Duh! Imagine me on your lap! That’d be stupid. You’re a like pocket sized, I’m lanky as shit.” Marceline wiggled her long legs as much as she could in the small space of the van. A joke.

“Yeah haha.” They hit a pothole in the road. Marceline’s kneecap slid between Bonnibel’s legs. Marceline’s kneecap was like _in_ her vag right now.  

She tried to move but the car was extremely cramped. She looked over at Marceline to see if she cared or noticed but she didn’t seem to. Then her eyes wandered down to Marceline’s mesh shirt, and her chest. They hit another bump in the road and this time it felt a little too good. She was still a little turned on from earlier. To be completely honest she was always a little turned on lately. Ever since she started helping Marceline, which was no surprise. She tried to keep her head about it but it was really just so annoying! She often had to masturbate to be able to fall asleep at night because of it. It was like nigh constant pressure between her legs... _Oh no. Jesus christ am I going to accidentally get off right now?_ This is _very_ bad.

She bit her lower lip and tried to think of anything else. Her brain then did its favorite thing and made her think of the thing she didn’t want to as a way of establishing what not to think of. The fantasy of Marceline’s breasts exposed in her mesh shirt. Unf. another bump. This was getting out of hand.

“So you’re from Germany right, Bonnibel?” Phoebe asked. She tried so hard to focus on the conversation and not the goddamn _vibrating_ knee cap.

“What. Ja that’s a place I was before in my--uh --times.” unf. Another bump.

“I’ve got some family there. Are your folks still there?” she continued.

“Uh what?” God! “Yes and no, I guess?”

“You don’t know?”

“Huh? I know.” Shit they were on a flagstone road now. Phoebe looked confused.

“Yes, because they’re still --unh--there, technically. And No, because they are _buried_ there. Like in the--ung-ground.”

She better not come while talking about her dead parents.

 

“Oh. shit my bad dude.”

“It’s fine. I was little. Unh. Are we almost there? Where the hell are we going!”  

Where ever it was they needed to get there fast. What if she climaxed, would marceline be able to _feel_ her muscles contract? Bonnibel was beginning to break out in a cold sweat.

“Were here!”

The van pulled up to a three story brownstone. The basement floor lights were flashing an entire spectrum of color through the small barred window. Loud, dissonant but not unpleasant dance music could be heard from the street.

“Woah. Who’s cave is this?” Bonnibel joked. She was trying to defuse her own tense mood.

“Mine.” Marceline replied. Of course it was. Bonnibel cringed. Could this get any worse?

\----

 

When they walked in the rest of the team was already there, along with some other derby player and people she recognized from Marceline’s show including her bandmates and the sound person called BMO who was Djing. The girl, Keila, ran up to Marceline.

“MARCE!!” she shouted. “Hey everyone! Shut up Marceline is here!” Everyone did not shut up but instead began to scream and cheer extremely loud. Bonnibel was getting overwhelmed. From the small kitchen the other bandmate, Bongo, was carrying a cake with a photo of Marceline printed on it. She was passed out on someone’s lawn with two empty 40s of Big Bear taped to her hands and a cigarette dangling from her mouth. A tortoiseshell cat with one eye was standing on her butt. In lousy red script, it said _Happy Birthday, Shitlord_ with a wax 2 and a wax 1 and another wax 2 next to it.

Everyone started to sing happy birthday to her as he approached with the cake.

“Aww guys! The Edward Fortyhands pic, really?”

“It’s ICONIC!” Keila yelled.

“I’m 212?” Marceline asked as he held the cake

“We didn’t have a 3 since no one had turned anything with a 3 in it here yet, you old coot. So we improvised!” Keila explained.

“Happy Twenty 1+2th Marce!” Bongo said.

She blew out her candles and everyone sang and cheered. Bonnibel felt suddenly out of place. This was a feeling she despised more than anything else. Thinking she belonged somewhere only to be made to feel like a stranger a second later. _She didn’t even know it was her birthday. Why hadn’t she said? Do I matter so little…_

Bonnibel had never had friends like Marceline’s. Friend’s who threw her parties and had funny memories to reference. The only friend’s she had currently didn’t even know how to make small talk with her for the duration of a car ride. She looked up and Marcy was talking to some more people she didn’t know. She was crestfallen. Bongo walked up with a limited edition mcdonalds collectable plate covered with red jello shots.

“Marceline only likes the red flavored.” he mentioned. “Well the vodka flavored, really. Who fucks with unspiked jello?”

Bonnibel scarfed down four at once and grabbed an unopened beer from an unattended box on the table. Fuck it. She could still have a good time. She cracked it open and took a long swig.

 

She soon learned why Bongo was called Bongo. He had constructed several gravity bongs, one for each room in the house. She began to flash from moment to moment. She’d be talking to someone then as if by magic she’d be transported to another room. She may have also used a gravity bong. She once realized she was talking to someone she thought was a total idiot because he looked utterly confused by everything she said only to realize she had been speaking German to him without knowing. Jake and Bongo hung out with her for a bit before getting into their own things she couldn’t follow. Of course, _they_ could be friends. It made her upset in an impetuous way. Like a child. The drunker she got the bigger her feelings became. She hoped they’d get smaller or even disappear.

She decided to dance for a little while. She found a pretty girl who was dancing alone in the living room and tried to dance with her for a while. This made her feel a little better. Dancing with pretty girls usually did that for Bonnibel. However, she was suddenly missing. She was dancing alone again. Disoriented. She started to feel a little weird and needed to step outside to the back yard.

The backyard was pretty busy with smokers, but it was much less crowded than inside the apartment. It was also cold, which kept people from wanting to hang out out there. She was worried she might throw up. She asked if this could get any worse, and that would be it. _Sorry I almost came on you earlier, MegaCrush, now I’m gonna vom on your house!_  She knew it would be bright red too. This was a disaster.

She held herself close rubbing her arms against the cold. She could feel the tears again. She was drunk enough to cry. _The crying and puking drunk girl at Marceline’s birthday._ No. She didn’t want to be that.

Just then the back door opened and she heard the flicking of a lighter. It was Marceline. She smokes?

“Hey Bon! How’s it going, what are you doing out here?” Marceline asked. No one else had asked. She said it so sweetly too. Yep. It was going to happen.

Bonnibel started to stutter cry a little bit.

“Oh Bonnie! Woah woah! No need to cry. It’s ok.” Marceline came up to her and hugged her. Bonnibel buried her face in the other girls shoulder. All of a sudden she was sobbing. She couldn’t pinpoint why. It was just _everything._ Marceline was petting her head.

“I understand. I’ve been sad too. I lost my mom when I was a kid. Some people just get more than their fair share of sadness.”

She handed her a glass.

“Don’t worry. It’s just water. Drink.”

Bonnibel began to sip the water and feel better. Less like crying and less like puking. Marceline pulled a hanky out of her pocket. _Hankies? Could she be any cuter._

She began to wipe her face clean of tears. Her green eyes trailing over her features.

“You have so many freckles. I’m jealous. You must be covered in them.” Marceline said sweetly. Bonnibel sniffled.

“What are you anyway?”

“A teen *hic* heartthrob.” great, now Bonnibel had drunk hiccups like a fucking cartoon.

“Haha. That you are. The throbbiest.” Marceline took another drag off her cigarette. Bonnibel held up her hands to signal for her to share.

“Smoking now too? Poor sweet Princess Bubblegum Now a rotten delinquent.”

Bonnibel pouted and took a drag. She coughed a little from a hiccup that held the smoke in and puffed it out in a little round cloud that made Marceline laugh. She handed the cigarette back to Marceline. They did that a few times until it was out. She would smoke a hundred cigarettes if it meant she could keep Marceline to herself out here.

She looked up at Marceline’s neck. The two little red scratches from her injury were visible past her cropped bob.

“Does it hurt?” Bonnibel asked. She moved closer to examine the wound.

“Not really. Though I don’t get what I landed on. It almost looks like two perfect circles. See? Marceline moved back her hair to let Bonnibel see better. She caught the flavor she had sniffed earlier when Marceline had picked her up. It was her neck, that’s where she smelled the strongest. Where the best smell ever was.

“What do you think Doc, will I live?”

“You’ll need my special medicine.” Bonnibel replied. She liked when Marceline was playful. Bonnibel then leaned in and kissed the welts on the other girls neck.  

“All Better?” Bonnibel whispered.

 

Then it changed. She heard Marceline swallow softly. She made some sort of unintelligible noise. Something mixed with a weak laugh. The kiss had been meant as a juvenile gesture. Like what Marceline had done to her road burn at Gunters. But this felt different. Or maybe it was the same and they both were just now realizing it. Pieces were sliding into place.

Bonnibel’s face was still at Marceline’s neck. She lingered. Waiting for the mood to dissipate, waiting to see if it was real. And then she kissed her again. This time, a little harder.

Marceline let out a low sigh. She put down the glass Bonnibel had handed her and held Bonnibel’s cheeks in her hands and moving her to face her. She then stopped to look again at Bonnibel’s freckles. Running a long thumb over her cheek.

“So _fucking_ cute.” and she pulled Bubblegum’s mouth onto hers.

Their mouths were crashing together. Bonnibel stood on her tiptoes to meet the other girl’s mouth again and again. The kisses grew harder and more exasperated. They barely stopped to breath.

Bonnibel slipped her tongue into the other girls mouth. She tasted her and it was better than she imagined. The earthy taste of tobacco and a bit of the sweetness of birthday cake. Bonnibel heard the other girl sigh that involuntary sigh that always turned her on. She stuck her tongue in deeper to the other girls mouth. Marceline returned the gesture. Her kiss was hard.

“Ow!” Bonnie said. She touched her lip. It was bleeding.

“Shit! I forgot I still had my teeth in. They’re kind of sharp. Are you ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m great. Can you um--”

Without another word Marceline popped them off her canines and dropped them in the glass. They started to make out again regaining the same pace and then some. They had moved to the corner of the yard where they would be least likely to be seen by the other smokers.

Marceline pushed Bonnibel against the wall. Caging her between her arms. She pressed her body against Bonnibels. Her knee found her way between Bonnibel’s legs for the second time that night. Bonnibel smiled into Marceline’s kiss at the thought.

 

“I’ve wanted that back there since we got out of the car.”

“Fucking pervert.”

Marceline’s hands ventured down Bonnibels top and into her jacket.

“This outfit. I like” Marceline said.

She cupped one of Bonnibel’s breasts. Bonnibel’s hands crept up Marceline’s shirt feeling her warm body and strong muscles flex as she bent to kiss her again and again. An adventurous thumb swept over Bonnibel’s nipple.

“Woah. Bonnie, are your nipples pier--”

 

“Hey Marceline! Are you out here?”

 

It was Keila. Marceline quickly adjusted her shirt and stepped out from the shadow. Bonnibel stayed. She didn’t know what to do so she watched.

“Trying to hide that you’re smoking again? Loser. I told you to quit. I guess it’s your birthday/funeral.”

“Haha yeah. What is it?” she blushed.

“I think we’re trying to kick everyone out, its like 4 am. I need you to lock the weird bolt on the door after them that I can’t get. Fuck this place is garbage...Probably all should go to bed. Speaking of, what’s all over your face?”

Marceline pulled out her phone’s front-facing camera. Bonnibel’s deep red lipstick was smeared all over her mouth. Shit.

“Wine mouth?”

“You’re a sloppy bitch. Fix yourself and help me corral all these drunks.”

Keila went back through the door and left them alone again outside.

 

“Um. Yeah. I guess you need to leave.” Marceline said.

 

What? She was this turned on and already at this girl’s house and she was getting kicked out? She felt like crying again.

 

“Uh. Ok.”

“I’ll call you a cab.” Marceline offered. She pulled up the app on her phone without looking over at Bonnibel.

 

What the fuck?

  
And that is how Bonnibel Betzler _almost_ came on Marceline _twice_ in one tragic night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heheehhehehehehehehehehehehheehheheh


	9. The Pivot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More foolishness and Marceline tries to write a text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is reading this as I post it! What a fun week we are having, huh?  
> I've only got a few more chapters planned, but let me tell you, they'll be great! ;-)

Marceline spent the week following her birthday playing her favorite game with herself. It was called _Pathologize This!_ And the rules were as follows:

 

  1. An act has confused you or made you feel weird or vulnerable.
  2. Think about it ceaselessly inside of your head but speak to no one about it take no external action, just examine it to the point of exhaustion and ugliness _._
  3. Review those thoughts : Find every angle in which _you_ _fucked up_ that lead you to such a state of confusion and fear thus instigating said mental torture and make a list
  4. Review the list. Never do any of those things ever again as they are _bad and hurt you_.
  5. End result: never be left vulnerable or get scared ever again. Never get _hurt_ again _._



 

It was a very simple game. It was one she had been playing for years so she did it without even thinking. She played it when Bonnibel texted her the next day after her birthday party.

 

_Brainlord: So last night was fun, um, happy birthday?_

 

When she saw it she didn’t know what to do. She felt something, something scary. She mentally pivoted away from it. It felt as if she were strolling through her thoughts and Bonnie’s text was this giant boulder that just blocked her path. She started cycling through the list. It was a list that exponentially compounded with each pass. The list getting longer, the torture getting more gratuitous. She hadn’t been sleeping.

She found herself incapable of responding. What was the right thing to say?

 

She had kissed Bonnibel Betzler. Like A lot.  She replayed it over and over. Shey laid awake at night staring up at the water stain on the ceiling. Tracing its disgusting brown rings and hating herself. She had lost control She had let something slip she wasn’t ready to let slip. She was too drunk. She had taken liberties. She had been overzealous. Why had she even done it aside from it felt good. _Very good._ It felt so fucking good to touch her, to feel her body writhe against her own.

However, would she do it again sober? Would she again put herself in a position of that kind of trust with another person? She could easily tease Bonnibel when she wanted to. Flirt with her even. It was fun and made her feel warm. But it had to be on her own terms. When Bonnibel began looking for even a hair more, or she thought about her needing anything from her, it made Marceline anxious.

It started to make her feel she was already too deep in a direction she wasn’t sure she was ready to explore again. A worse thought entered her head. It made her even more anxious than the thought of Bonnibel starting to need anything from her. 

What if Marceline started to need Bonnibel. 

It made her heart want to jump out of her chest.

She left the text on read. She needed time. Time to think about what she wanted to do next. Instead, when she tried to wander that mental pathway the boulders kept falling. She kept sitting in the dark, legs crossed staring at a blinking I beam. She tried a few drafts of texts:

 

_ShitLord: Yeah haha a wild night_

 

She erased that immediately. Too flippant. Too easily chalking up the interaction to a bout of hedonism on her birthday. Like some sorority girl. She knew it was more than that. She had to admit to herself she had felt a kind of attraction to Bonnibel for a long time. She just didn’t know how much she felt until she felt the other girl’s lips on her neck. It was as if the bottom fell out of her stomach. She couldn’t form a coherent sentence. When she had kissed her again, there was no turning back. She went on autopilot letting her body tell her what to do next. And it appeared her autopilot was _gay as hell._

But now it was the cold light of day. Everything that seems so simple at one moment can become so complex at the next.

_ShitLord: lol. Yeah Coach you gave me a drunken hickey as my present! haha See you at practice!_

 

No. She erased it. that one wouldn’t do either. She didn’t want to make it a joke. She didn’t want to assert the distance and establish that she wanted things to remain as the status quo. Just have it be a weird factoid that they made out once at her birthday. She felt it in her gut that she wanted to do it again. And more.

 

_ShitLord: ;-) i didn’t know you had it in you, Betzler. Let’s get together and see what that tongue can really do._

 

This one was deleted in a panic. She didn’t want to make it just about sex. Not all of it at least. She had to ask herself, did she want to have sex with Bonnibel? She imagined it. Her long strawberry blond hair tumbling over her naked body. Her small pink nipples peeking through the strands. A distant wanton look on her face as she pulled her bottom lip into her teeth...

Marceline’s whole body shivered. Ok so yes, she wanted to have sex with Bonnibel. That at least was clear.

That alone was a big deal. She hadn’t really experienced feelings like this for another woman before. Was it just because she knew Bonnie was a lesbian? Had this even crossed her mind before she came out to everyone at the first practice? That was a crucial boulder in her dissection of the night.

 

_ShitLord: I’ve never done anything like that before. Can we not make a thing about it. I need to figure stuff out._

 

This was the most pathetic of all. She deleted it like the other drafts. It had now been 3 days since Bonnibel had texted her. Three days of Marceline trying to figure out what she wanted to say. Instead, she had spent that time burying her feelings in layers of mixed intentions. The truth is, she just wasn’t  sure what she wanted.

 

_ShitLord: I’m sorry Bonnie. I like you a lot but I can’t do another relationship right now. My last one ended badly, you were there, I just can’t be with anyone. I’m sorry._

 

Was Bonnibel even asking for a relationship? It could have meant nothing to her. That twisted everything into a new light. It made her cringe. She was here worrying about something Bonnie might not even be breaking a sweat over. It was so aggravating.

Everytime she looked at the text she remembered all of this torturous worrying. She was grinding her brain down to dust. She did what she had done before when she had such a reaction to a text and deleted it.

There. Now she could at least pretend nothing had happened until she had to deal with it. Like _had to had to._

She got another text later that night:

 

_BrainLord: Is everything ok? Did I do something wrong?_

 

Her face hurt as if she was going to weep. How could any one person overwhelm her so thoroughly. She had all of these little issues that rolled up and got bigger and bigger.

 

_ShitLord: You’re driving me crazy. All I can do is think about you. The way you taste and feel. The softness of your body. Please, chase me! Make me yours! Promise you’ll never leave me!_

She deleted the draft and Bonnibel’s second text. She scrolled through their previous conversations in the text chain. They talked a lot. About Derby, yeah, but also about feelings and jokes. It made her feel even worse because it was super unusual she wasn’t texting her back. She knew she was being weird. She grimaced outwardly.

A full day passed again. She was like a zombie at work and at her house. Keila had walked in on her standing in the bathroom with a toothbrush dangling out of her mouth and staring at her phone for a full five minutes once. She at least had the distraction of band practice. A gig on another night. It helped a little. But as soon as she was alone the cycle would begin again.

_BrainLord: Um. Ok. Well I guess I’ll see you next Wednesday. Don’t forget it’s your turn to bring the snacks. And I don't mean a single pack of gushers. We don't want a repeat of what happened last time. Total Bloodbath._

 

She walked into her shift at the Nightosphere. She didn’t even need to do the makeup she usually did to simulate the dark circles that had formed around her eyes. She was wearing a black bandanna around her neck, black cargo pants and an old Blink 182 band t shirt that had the sleeves cut off and a zillion holes in it.

Keila greeted her.

“Marce you're on barback and bussing tonight.” Keila said. “Maybe you’ll get out of here early.”

“What I thought I was bartending.”

“Nope. You’ve got your sad shirt on. You need a break.”

“What? My sad shirt? There’s nothing sad about Blink 182.”

“No dude. This is the shirt you wear when you’ve got the sads. You wore it for days when Hambo was missing.”

She remembered when her cat, Hambo, an old tortoiseshell tabby with one eye, had gone missing. He was an indoor-outdoor cat and could take care of himself but he almost always came home at night and slept in her room on a pile of dirty laundry. They were both raggedy creatures and she had an intense affitiy to him. It had almost killed her when she thought he was gone forever. She rolled her eyes that were starting to tingle from the genuine concern Keila was showing. She was rarely this touchy feely.

“I’m fine, Keila. But I’ll take it. I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I’d love to attempt to turn in early tonight.”

“I don’t think you’re fine and I’m going to get it out of you.”

It was a Sunday night and the bar was less than a quarter full. A lot of people had work in the morning, but that didn’t stop folks from getting drunk. That was a problem _future_ them would worry about. Current them was gonna get smashed and pass out.

Nepter was at his post. His favorite stool was at the far end of the bar. He was an older man of a squarish build. His face was not a memorable one, but he was sipping a glass with a few fingers of straight rye whiskey in it. A pad of paper in front of him. His characteristic look.

She began cleaning some glasses near his spot.

“How’s the book coming Nepter?” she asked absently.

Nepter glanced down at his pad of paper. A few scrawlings were etched into it in blue pen with a heavy hand.

“I’m not sure. Everytime I seem to move forward on it, I feel the need to go back as well.” He mimed a little person with his fingers walking across the bar.

“I feel like I’m getting nowhere. But I want it to be perfect. I think i have it in me. Otherwise what am I even doing?”

“I know you have it in you. You just have to keep trying.” Marceline tried to support him with somewhat empty words. She did care a little bit for him in the way one might care for one bench over another because one passed it each day on the way home.

“Or keep failing I guess! “ he said with a sad laugh.

“Hey that’s life. Also, you can just scrap it. Move on. Who cares? No one can make you do anything.” Marceline said.

“That’s the whole problem! I wish someone could! I’m sick of spinning my wheels.”

 

Nepter bought another whiskey. Marceline got it for him when Keila was busy since he was a regular.

“It’s like you have this thing, this insect, its small and elusive. Or maybe its more like a pebble. A slippery little river pebble. You try to name it and understand everything about it but it feels insane. You feel like a crazy person, and no one _made you_ do it. But you need to even if it makes you feel insane. Look at the great poets, the transcendentalists. Talking about grass and trees and rocks and shit. That must have felt insane. _Like look at the bozo wanting to fuck rocks_  But it's a part of appreciating the things around you, the life that is. The god in that. Yeah you could discount it, call it garbage, but the most important thing is its now, and it's yours. I dunno what I’m saying.”

Nepter was a sad man, but his heart was right. He had just been left alone too long, or that’s what Marceline thought anyway. He had written some well-regarded novels that she hadn’t read. Every now and then a reader would hear he drank here and come by to see him. She set the drink down in front of him.

“Ooo is like this beautiful place, a hard place, but worth it. I almost didn’t come here. I almost stayed back home. Sometimes I think I should have, but ultimately I didn’t and I’m grateful. Grateful for everything. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say with this book,”

“What do you mean?”

“That the potential is _always_ worth the risk.”

 

Marceline let herself zone out for a few more hours in her shift. The crowd got a little heavier around the 8:30 and would start to dissipate around 1030. She would probably be walking out of here around midnight, which for her was an early night. She was practically nocturnal because of this job.

At around 11 she had finished a lot of her duties around the bar. She found herself staring at the fully stocked cocktail garnish container and continuing to add olives until they started rolling off each other and tumbling to the ground.

“Woah Woah Abadeer. What the fuck is your damage. Enough of this.”

Keila grabbed the jar of olives from her hand. Marceline was startled.

“I already told you, I’m fine.”

“So you just thought the floor really needed more olives? _Not enough floor olives_ that’s what you thought?”

“Fuck Keila take a hint! I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So there is an it! I knew it. Sad Shirt!”

Marceline made a mental note to never wear this shirt again.

“Who is it. Oh god it’s not Ash again is it?”

“Lord no! Like I’d ever go back to him. Give me some credit.”  
“So it’s a _who…”_

“Stop it with your trickery, woman.”

“You know if you don’t talk about things they only get worse right? I’m not telling you this because I want to live vicariously through you because my love life is a fucking ghost town. Complete with tumbleweeds”

“ It can’t be that bad.” Marceline sighed. Was Bonnibel even a love life yet? They had just kissed. That’s not enough to warrant all this prying.

“I’m this close to getting an anime body pillow, dude.”

“Woah. That’s-”

“Don’t change the subject. I’m pathetic. Moving on. What’s the deal. Who is he? Do I know him?”

“There’s no _him_ to know or not know !”

“Wait. Do you even _know_ any guys? I guess there’s that little dude in the bear hat. Fint? Ben? I dunno. He was at your birthday. But he’s like 12 or something right?”

“What! Gross. I’d never be into _Finn_ and he might as well be.”

“There is something about your birthday though. That’s when the sad shirt first emerged.”

“God Keila. No. Stop this foolishness”

“So he was definitely at your birthday. Hm. Now it’s just process of elimination…”

“There’s no him to eliminate! Just stop!”  

 

Marceline was getting more worked up. If Keila wasn’t her best friend she might have yelled at her. Her face was also extremely flushed. It was as if she were her own lie detector. The redder she got the closer Keila knew she was to sussing out the truth.

 

“No him huh?”

“No...” Marceline blushed extremely hard.

“Oh. My. God.” Keila jumped up and down and covered her face with her hands and _straight up squealed._

“It’s a girl isn’t it.”

Marceline looked up at her friend who seemed almost gleeful. Like she had found a fifty dollar bill on the ground that was also bisexual.

“Fuck Keila...I don’t-” Marceline said. Her face almost completely red down to her neck. She suspected any more of this would give her hives. It was too fucking much. She buried her face in her palms. She was exasperated.

“Yes. It’s a girl...” she said, muffled by her palms that still hid her face from Keila’s.

“I KNEW IT!” Keila squealed. She then wrapped her friend in a strong hug.

“Get off me! What do you mean you knew it?”

“I mean, c’mon. You vibe hard Abadeer! Everyone could feel it.”

 

Marceline looked dubiously at her.

 

“Do you know how many girls have asked me for your number after shows? I can’t even count. You’ve got that tall, broody musician vibe. All girls like that. Like 100% of girls. Also the Derby. You're a goddamn Pivot. You play _both positions._  This is like a literal one-to-one.Not to mention the Bisexual Bob.”

“The what?”

“The Bisexual Bob. How do you not know this? If a character in a tv show *cough or anime* has a short bob haircut there’s a huge increase in the chance that she’s going to be gay. When you cut your hair a few months ago I thought it was the soft release of your gayness on the world. It was just a matter of time and today is the day!”

“I’m not sure I’m bisexual, or what I am. I mean I liked guys mostly, or have. It's just the way Bonnie--”

“WAIT. IT’S BONNIBEL!”

“ Oh...Um... No?” Marceline hadn’t realized she had let her name slip. A small embarrassed smirk lightening her mood a bit.

“Shut up! Oh, Marce! She’s so cute!” Keila said, hugging her friend again.

“She is, isn’t she. She’s so small and adorable. And nerdy. Sometimes she wears glasses Keila and they fall down her nose. And her freckles! She has this one extra pretty one just above her lip. And the way she dresses. I just I can’t even handle myself. Her hair is just so soft and she smells so nice. She’s just so dreamy and I just can’t stop thinking about her and--”  Marceline was getting giddy.

“Woah Woah loverboy. Still sad and lonely over here, cut me some slack. I wish I could find a hot Coach to bone.”

“Maybe that’s my sexuality. Coaches only.

“Yikes. Are you going to tell the team if you hook up with her?”

 “I kinda already did.”

“MARCE.”

“Outside, on my birthday.”

“MARCCCCE.”

“It wasn’t wine on my lips. You know I’m not a slob. I’m offended you believed me.”

“MMMMMAAAR”

“It actually was her lipstick. And there’s this.”

 

Marceline lowered the black bandanna she’d been wearing to reveal the hickey on her neck.

“Oh my god. You gay slut.”

 

She had spent the remainder of her shift talking about Bonnibel. The fear she had felt before had transitioned into a kind of excitement. She had forgotten that. There wasn’t just a downside to letting people in when you needed help. Not everyone would disappoint you. The trust had the ability to shine some light on a complex pile of emotions that had felt like a Gordian knot in her chest. She would need to try this again in the future. Even if it was only with Keila at the moment. She still wasn’t sure what to say to Bonnibel, but she at had cleared a few boulders. 

At the end of her shift, she was tasked with the worst job which was taking the garbage out back to the dumpsters in the creepy as shit alleyway. She had loaded the first bag into the dumpster when she heard something that sounded like a scream coming from near the entrance to the alley by the street. She ran towards it.

 

There was Bonnibel pressed up against a wall and shaking with terror. And in front of her was Ash.

 

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all have a sad t-shirt. I know I do. If you catch me in it, get ready for me to be a bit extra.


	10. Biohazards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonnie's POV 1/2!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to upload multiple chapters tonight to make up for my absence! How dare my IRL life distract me from my true raison d'etre, Bubbline!

CRASH!

 

_ “HerrGottNochmal!!! LeckMichAmArsch!!!”  _ Bonnibel shouted to the alarm of the entirety of her Sunday afternoon advanced meta-chemistry lab class. 

 

She was shaking and sweating no small amount as she stood at her bunsen burner before the third broken conical flask of the period. Yes. Just that period. Rain, who had moved her station near the other girl’s, jumped. 

 

“Whoa, Bon! Maybe don’t punish the beakers. Mistress of Pain over here.” She lightened the mood of the lab for everyone. Bonnibel took that moment to release the sigh that had been pent up inside her for what felt like a week  _ Well technically it’s been eight days. Eight days since… _

“Yikes, what’s the deal? Who contaminated your control sample?” Rain asked gently. Trying to get through to the other girl who seemed to be a lot angrier than usual. 

 

“Nothing. Just frustrated by--uh-- these stupid tubes.” She pointed ineffectually at the various bubbling beakers, “What are we even doing? This stuff is hardly applicable to any real problems. Problems without solutions. The world is full of them! Problems  _ need _ solutions, Rain! You can’t just leave them unanswered and hope they disappear!” 

Bonnibel was rambling. Rain did nothing to stop it. 

“You try to be cool, keep the heat low, but then the reaction slows to the point of imperceptible change that would take a millennia to react perceptively enough to confirm your hypothesis, so you turn the heat up and everything reacts too quickly to understand! All over everything, every part of your life, ruining all your work! You can’t start over! It’s all ruined! And you can’t pretend nothing happened! Something did but what the hell was it!?” Bonnibel then waved a cupped hand in front of her face and said “ _ Tja!”  _ stabbing the words out from deep in her throat.  __

“Are you feeling better?” Rain asked. The truth was she did feel a little better. She also felt a bit insane.

“Yeah, I think I do. I just need a break. I think.”  Bonnibel said as she was sweeping up the remains of her third casualty and disposing of them in the BioHazard trash can. 

 

Bonnibel had buried herself in her studies since Marceline’s birthday. It felt a bit like backtracking. Like she had gotten so close to the person she wanted to be only to reveal her hand too soon. To let the other shoe drop. It had to drop, after all. That’s what all of Bonnibel’s life experience had told her, too. Nothing good lasts.

Thankfully, the team had decided to take a break from practices that week to allow a well-deserved rest after the fantastic triumph of the match on Halloween. Bonnibel at least had some space from that responsibility to focus back in on her school and have a little free time. Free time she quickly realized she didn’t want at all. So she tried to fill it with more lab hours. But now she was on edge and feeling exhausted. Rain suggested she hang up her lab coat for the day and tuck into a cushion in her dorm with a nice movie or smutty fanfiction. They had the next day off class, and she hadn’t taken a real break in what felt like months. Savor this moment. She took her suggestion if for no other reason than she had no more beakers to complete her experiment with. 

 

Bonnibel prepared a pillow fortress in her suite back at the dorms. She lit a candle and opened up fanfiction.net only to quickly close it because she remembered that site was impossible to navigate, and decided to instead open archiveofourown.com. She scrolled through the website to a few favorite stories. If this website were an actual book certain sections of it would be so well worn and dog eared to the point where everyone would know what she had been up to. Alas. If only it were an app. There was a million dollar idea...

After sorting F/F, Explicit, Complete, and searching for the lowest word count with the highest kudos in her favorite fandom, she was off. The smutting hour was upon her. She pulled up the hem of skirt and removed her vibrator from its sacred resting place between the bed and wall. When she fished it out she raised it high! Excalibur!

She pressed the on button only to have it buzz sadly once or twice before immediately slowing to a barely noticeable mumble.  

“Et tu, Brutus?!” She shouted before throwing the toy at the wall. It made a much louder sound than expected. Perhaps she had been too hard on it. After all, if there was anyone who had been working harder lately than Bonnibel, it was Bonnibel’s vibrator. 

She closed her laptop and shoved it across her bed. She didn’t have the energy for manual drive right now. She was a miserable mess. Finally the thoughts she didn’t want the most filtered in.

 

_ Why hasn’t she texted me back... _

_ Why hasn’t she texted me back!!  _

_ Was I a creep? I don’t remember a lot of the night. _

_ What if I did something I don’t remember? _

_ I know we kissed...a lot. _

_ Oh my god, did I do something she didn't want me to do?  _

  
  


Bonnibel hated this feeling however it was one she knew well. She often felt creepy when she started to act or come close to acting on feelings she had for girls. She even felt it minorly after dancing with the stranger at the party before anything with Marceline had happened. A sort of guilt because the reasons she danced with that girl might have been completely different than the reasons the girl had danced with her. The reasons she had kissed Marceline had been very serious and Marceline was known to like to tease. Had she taken her teasing as an invitation unjustly and pushed it further than Marceline had wanted it to go? 

She shook her head. This was torturous. Her observer self, the Scientist, in her knew that this was some sort of internalized homophobia brought on by experiencing casual misogyny throughout her life as a femme-presenting woman. She was so afraid of behaving like the countless men who had accosted her in her life without a second thought that she over policed her own ability to express sexual feelings for women because she knew how creepy it could be receiving advances from someone unwanted. How scary it was sometimes. And how could she  _ know _ someone wanted her without asking thus expressing her interest thus being creepy and self-fulfilling the creep prophecy. It was a true Catch-22 that caused her a lot of heartache even with girls she was positive liked her.

 

All the while men like Ash felt none of this anguish while being actually creepy. It was unfair to herself, she knew, and yet here it was rearing its ugly head. It was like some sort of equal but inverse reaction.  

 

She had tried to create a peaceful calm environment, but it just was not cutting the mustard. The mustard was starting to cut her. Drastic measures had to be taken. She opened up a group text.

 

_ Bonnibel Betzler: What’s up? _

 

She hit send and shut her eyes. She was about to do this. 

 

_ Finn: PEEEEEBBBBBBLLELLEEEESSSSSSSS!! :--D _

 

She was beginning to regret this already

 

_ Jake:  _ Livin’ it up! LONG WEEKEND

_ Finn: LLLLLOONNNGGG WEEKNARD _

_ Jake: You never text. Wait is there an emergency? _

_ Bonnibel Betzler: There’s no emergency! God. I’m not the police. Why does everyone-- _

_ Finn: COME HANG OUT WITHHHH USSS _

_ Bonnibel Betzler: Depends. What are you doing? _

 

There was a long pause in the text chain. She felt as though her last resort had also failed her. She opened her laptop back up and attempted to return to her _Battlestar Galactica_ Highschool AU. Starbuck was a quarterback. She could get with this _._ She could get down with some fictional lady athletes and not have to feel creepy about it. A short _plink_ came from her phone just as she felt she was about to get somewhere. 

 

_ Jake: Sorry PB.  _

 

A loud knocking came from outside her door along with the prepubescent sounding crackle of a voice. 

“PEEEEEBBBBBBB LIL PEB PEB SWEET PEB LET US IN!”

 

Shit! She quickly closed her laptop. She straightened her skirt and hair. Things had started to get pretty heated. Why now! When she had decided she looked presentable enough she opened her dorm room door a reasonable amount. 

Finn busted it open the rest of the way.

 

“Dude Peeb! Your room is a  _ sty!  _ I would have never guessed!” Finn started to walk around her room. 

“Um yeah.” Bonnibel became painfully aware of the loose underwear thrown near and around the laundry basket. 

“Oh shit! Our mom has that same back massager! She really likes it!” Finn said. 

 

Good god. She had forgotten to return her vibrator to its resting place. Jake looked a little embarrassed for her but mostly amused. He had always had a better attitude than she did about everything. A better attitude than most people had. 

 

“I apologize for my sweet innocent brother. Ellis traded him a sixer for a nug and it turns out limearitas are stronger than they appear. I apologize too, in absentia, for the many sins of Mrs. Mertins.” Jake said. It alleviated the tension Bonnibel was feeling. 

 

“We were thinking about going to the Nightosphere, wanna join?” Jake continued. 

 

Bonnibel was shaken at the suggestion. That was where Marceline worked. Could be working tonight. It wasn’t a place Bonnie wanted to go. Nope! She felt the need to somehow subtly suggest as such without being too obvious about Marceline. She needed some space from those ugly thoughts, not jump right into them.

 

“Ugh. Aren’t you sick of that place? We go there all the time!” Bonnibel said.

“Whattttt! The Nightosphere is the best! It’s cheap! And if Marceline is working we might even get freeeee drrrrriunks” Finn said drunkenly. 

“Like you need more drinks.” Bonnibel said.

“C’monnn let’s gooo! Don’t yoouu want to see all your friiends?” Finn asked.

“Marceline and I are hardly friends,” Bonnibel said suddenly. Maybe she could throw them off track.

“What? I thought you two seemed uber tight?” Jake said, astounded.

“I’m her coach! She’s my best player. We  _ have _ to spend a lot of time together. And to be completely honest, I’m not trying to spend any more.”

“But she’s the coolesst!” Finn said, with a whine. 

“She can seem that way at first with the clothes and the guitar, but she can be a little um insincere and a bit two-faced. She’ll pretend to be cool with you one second and then completely ignore you the next. I just don’t care to spend time with people I can’t trust. That’s all.”

“Wow. I didn’t know you disliked her that much. My bad.” Jake said a little incredulously. 

“I don’t think I dislike her. I just need a little space from her. She has pulled some especially weird moves lately that I don’t approve of. It’s just--Well we live in a city of 8 million people. There are hundreds of other places we could go. Let’s just not go there. I’m fine with anywhere else.”

 

So much for keeping Marceline out of the conversation. At least she felt she had led them away from the truth and had satisfied any curiosity surrounding her and the other woman. 

 

They decided to go to the bar district near the university and hop around for a while. They ran into a few other classmates that Finn and Jake knew and she didn’t. They all liked to vape, which came as no surprise, and so they suggested a bar that was cool with that called The Cloud Kingdom. The leader of the group was a sort of party god wearing a neon greenbackwards snapback and a t shirt with a wolf on it. In addition to being into vaping, he was into shots and had all his parent’s credit cards with him. 

Bonnibel rarely drank, last weekend was supposed to be the end of it for her for a while but the night had other plans. Every student was trying to get the most out of the long weekend. There was a sort of bacchanalian extravagance to it. Bonnie was introduced to a  _ boilermaker  _ which was a lethal as it was inexpensive. A shot of whiskey chased with a beer. She quickly found herself three sheets to the wind mindlessly chewing on an abandoned Papaya Dog someone hadn’t finished and left at their table. 

“PPPEEEP let’s play POOL!” 

“I’m busyy” She whined, her drunken lilt becoming more pronounced by the second. 

“Who,a Bub where did you get that.” Jake laughed, with a bit of a scolding tone.

“Found it.” Bonnibel said without any affect. As if it was natural and obvious.

“Cool find, dude!” Finn said with sincere praise.

 

She followed Finn to the pool table and lost the dog somewhere along the way, she simply allowed her grasp to loosen. When she made it she mourned it with a sad little mumble of  _ ak mien wienerschnitzel....  _

“Have you played before, PB?” Jake asked. 

“Not much. But i get it. Put ball in holes. Do good.” Bonnibel said, she was feeling tired and a little too drunk. Not in the sickening way she was the weekend before but she was recognizing the advent of it. She decided the beer she was sipping would be her last.

 

The game turned out to play to Bonnibel’s strengths and she was far better at it than Finn or anyone expected her to be. She knew she was good, but she assumed people like Finn and Jake would have had more practice than her. She had no problem using her knowledge of basic physics and trig to anticipate the movements of her cue ball and know exactly where to strike but against a true pr,o she figured she’d be useless. 

The boy in the backwards cap decided to try his odds with Bonnibel. He appeared dramatically through a vape cloud and announced his formal challenge. She accepted it with a shrug. This seemed like a big thing to him but she wasn’t sure why. The other Cloud Kingdom folks gasped. 

 

“He’s the best player here.” one of his friends let her know. “The best I’ve ever seen.” 

“You’ve got this Peeb!” Finn said, hugging her a little to tightly. 

“Yeah yeah.” She pried him off her. Ugh. Drunk Finn was a little touchy. 

 

The first few shots of the other student proved to be much more studied than the techniques of Finn and Jake. She found herself attempting to focus more in spite of her intoxication. The game became her world for a moment. The players were neck and neck until there were only three balls left on the table. One solid, one stripe and the 8. The other player took a shot and sunk his final solid. He then tried to shoot the eightball and missed. The force of his ball launching it to the other end of the table from Bonnibels last striped ball making it a difficult final set up. If she didn’t sink both this turn it was very likely she would lose. 

She took a deep breath and aimed. She followed through on her first shot on the exhale. She sank her first ball easily. Her cueball was now on the opposite end of the table from the eight. She imagined an invisible triangle and measured the distance she would need to shoot the cue ball to move the eight directly into the far right pocket. 

She aimed again and inhaled and planned to shoot on the exhale when the girl who had spoken to her earlier  _ accidently _ bumped into her and spilled some of her drink on Bonnibel’s back. The effect was lost however, as she had already made her shot when the girl hit her. She grimaced up at the stranger and her eye quickly returned to the table as the eight ball slowly, so slowly, rolled into the far right pocket. 

Bonnibel exhaled again in a long sigh and a non voluntary smile found its way across her face. She did love to win. 

“How’d you do it bitch! You cheat?” the other boy was getting angry fast. 

“No! Of course not! Though I think  _ you _ tried to! First you had her intimidate me before the match, then she  _ “bumped” into me  _ coincidentally during my final shot? I don’t think so!” 

“You calling me a cheater, bitch!” 

“I’m definitely not calling you Al!” Bonnibel said. 

 

The atmosphere was getting very heated very fast. Bonnibel downed the rest of her beer and wiped her mouth on the back of her arm and leered at the boy. Jake and Finn approached her reticently from behind. 

 

“Um, maybe we should get out of here, PB. You might have just started a turf war.” 

“Why me! He should be the one leaving! I didn’t do anything but be AWESOME!” 

 

Finn gently tugged her arm and she slapped him away. He looked genuinely shocked and it sobered Bonnibel enough to agree to leave. 

 

“Fine. I’ll go, but I’m going because I want to not because you told me to. This place sucks rotten eggs.”  Bonnibel said, feeling a little sorry but quickly heating up again when she met the frigid night air. 

 

She stomped down the sidewalk, her anger amplified by the drinks. 

 

“Why does this always happen! I do nothing wrong! I do something GREAT in fact and I get punished for it! I won that game! We won the halloween tournament! When will someone recognize I deserve to be appreciated! Loved even! Not rejected and ignored! Everyone is an utter domkompf! Was für Unsinn!”

“P maybe you need to head back to your place and cool off. It’s been a rough night.”  Jake suggested gently. The two boys weren’t sure where this was coming from.

“I’ll do what I want! I know in my gut what’s right and what’s wrong. And I know how to treat people! Not like that asshole in there, not like Marceline!” 

“Marceline again. What did she even do to you?” Finn said, still a little hurt from the slap. It wasn’t a hard slap, but it made him know his nearness was not wanted. It seemed Bonnibel could be quite nasty when she wanted to be. 

“You wouldn’t understand! You’re  a normal extroverted dude, you can just do whatever you want, Finn! You couldn’t possibly understand what I’m upset about” She sneered. She stormed off ahead of the boys back to the university. 

 

She slammed the door to her dorm and sat down on her bed only to get up again and pace around her dorm. Her arms crossed. She looked down at her phone. At the three unanswered texts.

 

“ _ Scheisse! _ ” she sneered again. “This can’t go on.” 

 

Bonnibel looked at the pink swatch on her wrist. How was it only 11? She wasn’t ready to sleep yet, not with all of these big feelings flooding her mind. She pulled her rose colored coat back on, threw her feet into a pair of dark maroon rain boots with a *shlock* and covered her head with a red beret. She checked her face in the mirror, and in spite of herself, applied a fresh coat of lipstick to her mouth and pinched her cheeks to add some color to them. 

 

She called a cab and set the destination: The Nightosphere. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the little meta Ao3 shout out. I'm sure this website would be soiled and dog eared for many of us. 
> 
> Next chapter, some action and some action ;)
> 
> let me know what you think! as always, i love reading the comments. be sure to give kudos if you like the story so more folks can find it when they do their Explicit F/F sort.


	11. The Smutting Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far, here's a payoff
> 
> CW: Mild violence and homophobic language
> 
> but also
> 
> CW: titties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)

When the car pulled up to the bar, the resolve that had been inflating her righteous anger began to dissolve. Was she really going to do this? Just show up when Marceline had made no effort to get in contact with her during the 8 entire days since they had shared a mind-blowing make-out session behind her house? She wasn’t even sure she was working. Though she had hypothesized it. Marceline worked most Sundays. The likelihood was high, and she wouldn’t be able to ignore her here. It was a bold move, one that would work to end Marceline’s stonewalling if she only kept her nerve.

 

The cab drove off leaving her alone before the dingy bar. She was still a little drunk, she had to admit, or she wouldn’t even be here. She walked up to the door and the away again a few times before she heard a familiar raspy voice call to her.

 

“Hey. I know you.”

 

She tried to ignore it at first. But she was alone.

 

“You’re that little nerd who stole my team from me.”

 

Bonnibel turned to confirm her awful suspicions. It was Ash.

 

“What are you doing here, out so late all alone,” Ash said with an intentional implication of threat to the inflection of his voice.

“Leave me alone Ash. And I could ask you the same. I’m sure Marceline doesn’t want to see you here.”

“Marceline doesn’t know what she wants. She’s mixed up. I’m sure you’ve discovered that by now.” Ash said somewhat perceptively. Though she knew he knew nothing of she and his ex-girlfriend’s relationship or this conversation would not be as even mildly civil as it was.

“And who says I’m here to see her. Maybe I’m looking to meet someone new.” His body language changed. He approached her and delved deep into her personal space. She _did not like_ where this was going. “You took something from me I really cared about. I would say you owe me. Why don’t I take something from you in return?”

He kept approaching her until she found herself in a small alley adjacent to the Nightosphere. This was getting worse. She had just been cornered.

Her back was to the brick wall and Ash had caged her in with his body. She was panicking. She tried pushing him off of her.

 

“Stop it Ash. I don’t like this.”

“Why don’t you give me what I want. It’s not that hard.”

 

She looked to the left and saw a discarded board. If she could just get to it, maybe she could hurt him enough to run away.

 

“Don’t even try it, princess.”  Ash said as he quickly kicked the board further down the alley.

 

She heard some clunking from nearby and decided to take this opportunity to shout for help. If it was another person and not a rabid raccoon she might have some hope. Even if it was a rabid raccoon, anything would help in this moment.

 

Ash quickly covered her mouth with his hand.

 

“Get away from her you dick bag!” a voice called from the alley. Ash turned his head to the noise and Bonnibel bit the palm of his hand as hard as she could.

 

“Fuck! You bitch!” he said as he shook the pain off of his hand. “You’re both going to get it now.”

“I think the fuck not!” the voice said and a giant heavy bag of trash was lobbed right at Ash’s head knocking him to the ground. Bonnibel ran to the source of the voice in the shadows.

 

Marceline looked down at the shorter girl.

“Bonnie! Oh, are you ok? Did he hurt you?”

Bonnibel’s heart was pounding. She threw her arms around the other girl and hugged her tightly. “I’m ok now. More than ok.” Marceline returned the hug for only a moment.

 

“You have some balls, Marmar I can give you that. But now you’ve only made me angry.” Ash said as he got up, stumbling a little and dusting his nasty track pants off.

“If you touch Bonnie, I’ll kill you,” Marceline said in defiance.

Bonnibel stayed close to her, she felt frozen clinging to Marceline. She felt Marceline’s strength in the taut lines of her body. She hid her face in the other girl's shoulder.

“Oh, I see how it is. First she steals my team, then she steals my _girlfriend_ . You both have some balls. I always knew you were a little _dykish_ Mar. That explains a lot.” Ash was approaching both of them. Bonnie eyed where she had kicked the board earlier. She stepped over and picked it up.

“Get back! I’m warning you!” Bonnibel shouted.

“Or what, princess? You’ll--” Ash began, but Bonnibel had squeezed her eyes shut and started running frantically at him swinging the board around as hard and fast as she could. All of the anger she had felt crystalized into this one motion.

Ash ran away from the impact.

“You crazy bitches!” Ash yelled, tripping over the trash pile and cutting his arm on a shard of broken glass. He saw his wound and how much he was bleeding and decided to retreat.

“Yeah, you better run!” Marceline shouted after him.

Bonnibel dropped the board to the ground. She began to shake a little. The increased blood pressure and adrenaline making her a little woozy.

“That was awesome, Bon!” Marceline said as the smaller girl collapsed a little onto her.

“Yeah, I’m a real tough son of a gun,” Bonnibel said so meekly it caused the other girl to nearly guffaw.

“Hey don’t laugh, you’re next.” Bonnibel said. She stepped back from the taller girl and crossed her arms.

“Oh Bon. I’m sorry. I realized I’ve been super weird this week. I just--I had to figure some stuff out. But I talked to Kiela and she helped me. About what happened…”

“We kissed…like a lot.” Bonnie replied a small smile creeping across her face along with a mild blush. Marceline smiled too.

“And it was…”

“Hot.” Bonnibel interjected.

“Ok, I was going to say _amazing,_ but yeah you mini horn dog it was hot too,” Marceline replied. A smirk replacing the genuine smile. A small canine was visible through the part at her lips. Bonnibel’s heart began to flutter out of control in a way that had nothing to do with the adrenaline pulsing through her veins.

“Ok. I want to be mad at you, but this is the best news, and you’re so unbelievably cute it's like super unfair. Can we just skip to the part where we kiss and make up?” Bonnibel said, exasperated.

 

Marceline let out a small chuckle. She leaned in and the other girl's lips met her own. Bonnibel’s hand reached up and cupped the taller girl’s cheek as their lips met again. Her fingers tangled themselves in Marceline’s thick black mop of hair. She tugged her hair a little as the taller girl’s tongue entered her mouth. Begging for more of her.

Marceline let out a little sigh at the pain. She seemed to enjoy it. When Bonnibel deepened the kiss she tugged again. Marceline honest to god _moaned_ into her mouth. It made the heat that was beginning to well at Bonnibel’s core double in intensity.

Bonnibel smiled at herself. They pulled their hungry mouths apart to allow them to explore other parts of each other. Marceline’s lips found their way to Bonnie’s ear. Her deft tongue traced the shell, dipping quickly in and out.  Her breathing was haggard and shallow. The sound made Bonnibels clit nearly hop into her throat.

Bonnibel quickly needed to raise the intensity of this. She pulled Marceline's hair again earning yet another moan and drug the taller girl’s neck to where she had easy access. She saw the mark she had made on the other girl and admired it. She was about to do that and more.

She latched on to the other girl and began to pull and bite at her reddened skin. She could hear the erratic breathing of the other girl in her ear again.

“Bon, fuck.” Marceline said. She had discovered something here. A gold mine of new elicit sounds.

 

She continued to work the other girl’s sensitive neck, inhaling deeply the other girl’s scent. She loved this smell. The girl’s shampoo, patchouli, sweat, and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke. But there was something else she was beginning to sense, something distinct yet elusive: Marceline’s arousal.  

Knowing that she was affecting the taller girl so thoroughly was making her extremely wet. She could feel her own arousal drenching her underwear.

As if she could read Bonnie’s thoughts, Marceline took that opportunity to push Bonnibel up against the brick wall of the alley. Their bodies slammed together seeming to pick up where they left off the week before. Marceline’s leg had found its way between Bonnie's legs. Bonnie couldn’t help but keen herself up against it. She needed some friction.

 

“Marce, god. I need more.” She barely managed to say.

 

Marceline deepened their kisses once again between her words. Her tongue found its way deep into Bonnie's mouth. Their sighs becoming more hoarse by the second. Bonnibel was being driven mad by this woman.

 

“Marceline, I need you to fuck me.” Bonnibel clarified breathily into the other girl's ear.

 

Marceline separated from her mouth at those words. Her face was flushed and when their eyes met, she saw that Marcelin’s pupils were blown wide with lust. She looked like a feral animal.

 

“How soon can we be at your dorm?”

 

The cab ride back to her dorm had been short, but too long at once. They got into the back seat after a bit of stumbling and awkward giggling. They were in such a hurry they almost toppled over each other trying to get in. At first, out of respect for the driver, they sat on opposite sides of the back seat, only allowing their fingers to intertwine in the middle section. The resolve slipped as soon as the girls looked at each other. Marceline had pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, revealing a single canine. Her cat green eyes heavily lidded, and Bonnibel suddenly lost the last of her fucks. She lept at each her.

Bonnibel found her way into Marceline's lap. She wrapped her arms around the other girl's shoulders and tangled her fingers in her hair again. Their mouths sealed tightly against one and other as their jaws worked the deepened kiss. Marceline’s hands clumsily began to unbutton the oversized buttons of Bonnibel’s coat and she was successful enough to get inside and find Bonnibel’s breasts. She began to palm them a little rough over her shirt while the kisses continued. She loved the way the other girl's hand’s felt on her. She rewarded her with a short tug on her hair.

Their breathing quickened and their body heat rose. Bonnibel snuck a hand up the back of the other girl’s oversized t-shirt and felt the slickness of sweat.

“Um. Girls,” the driver said. They pulled apart to listen. Had they already arrived?

“Young love is grand, but you’re fogging up my windows. Can you cool it until we get to your destination?”

They pulled apart, their breathing uneven. They both smirked at each other and looked down, blushing furiously.

Bonnibel got off Marceline's lap and decided to be content with sliding as close to her as she could, their sides flush in the cab. Marceline’s hand landed on the expanse of bare skin on Bonnie’s leg between her boots and skirt and began to creep up the hem of her skirt slowly.

“Sorry, dude. She’s obviously very hot so I can get carried away.” Marceline said, all the while snaking her hand illicitly up the other girl's leg, closer and closer to her center. Marceline was a renegade in all things, it seemed.

The tickling sensation of the other girls lithe fingers felt almost unbearable. So close to where she needed them, but so far. She bit her lower lip hard to keep from making any noises that would get them in further trouble. She was positive her user rating would be tanked now.

One daring finger stroked the front of Bonnibels underwear causing her to inhale sharply. The teasing sensation only a hint of what she needed. It was then that the driver pulled over.

“Ooo U. Have fun, ladies.” He said with a genuine smile.

 

They slid out of the cab quickly. The sweat that had accumulated on the back of her thighs from the tension in the cab causing Bonnibel to stick a bit but she still practically shot out into the street. She tugged Marceline along with her by the hand that she had pulled out of her skirt.

“Thanks, mister!” she called.

 

The elevator was taking too long so they opted to run up the stairs. They burst open the door to Bonnibel’s suite.

“Oh a private room. You really are a princess. I was worried we’d have to work around one of those dweebs you hang with sleeping on the bottom bunk or some sh--”

“Shut up.” Bonnibel replied, pushing the taller girl against the door to her dorm to shut it and looking her in the eye as she twisted the lock.

It was now Bonnibel’s turn to take charge. She yanked the other girl down by her hair and kissed her again. This kiss was harder than the rest, their lips were already swollen from the others and now would be even more so. She ran her tongue over her front teeth.

“Take off your shirt,” Bonnibel commanded.

“Yes, my liege.” Marceline joked, but her smug air was quickly replaced when she saw the seriously palpable desire darkening the smaller girls ice-grey eyes.

 

The taller girl pulled the so-called sad shirt over her head. It would definitely have a different meaning now. She stood in just her black bandana, a pair of low riding wide legged cargo pants that left the band of her Calvin Klein underwear visible, and a tight black sports bra.

Bonnibel raked her eyes over every inch of the other girl. Her slender, bruised neck ending at prominent clavicles. Her breasts pressed tightly together creating cleavage the girl wouldn’t usually have. Her nipples were hard and framed against the fabric of the bra. She saw she had many more tattoos than the sleeve on her arm. A small blackwork scorpion curved gracefully around her ribcage. A few other traditional style tattoos were on the other arm including a naked woman that Bonnibel found surprising and not at the same time.

She then trailed down Marceline's taut muscular stomach. Her breathing affecting the subtle shadows in the low light that alluded to the fine definition of her abs. Her hip bones curved and disappeared into the band of her underwear. She let herself enjoy this woman, exposed before her in a fit of rakish glory.

She ran a single finger up the other girl's stomach. Tracing the outline of her muscles.

“You’re so sexy. Do you know what you do to me?” Bonnibel said, only barely audible. Her lust making her bold. The voice that she heard didn’t sound like her own.

“I’m alright, I guess,” Marceline said, a little embarrassed to be so flagrantly on display.

“Let me prove it. I’ll show you the way you make me feel.” Bonnibel said.

She grabbed Marceline’s hand and pushed it down past the band of her panties and let her feel what she was doing to her.

“God,  _You’re so wet_ ,” Marceline said as if she were spellbound.

“You do this to me. Every time I see you. No one has made me this wet before”

Marceline pulled her hand out to examine it, the tips of her fingers glistening in the lamplight. She then pulled the digits into her mouth and licked them clean. The sight stirred a new flood of arousal in Bonnibel.

Marceline looked down to meet the grey eyes that had been raking over her exposed body. She held their gaze for a moment.

“Now it's your turn, perv. Take it off.” Marceline ordered.

 

Bonnibel locked eyes with the other woman and removed her jacket and boots. She opened the baby pink cropped button up she was wearing and tossed it aside. Her breasts were filling the cups of her off-white lace bra to the brim. The other girl began to return the favor of shameless leering. Bonnibel’s body was soft where Marceline’s was hard and her skin was decorated with a smattering of pinkish freckles all over her shoulders, stomach and chest. She couldn’t be content with just looking. She quickly closed the small amount of space between them capturing the other girl’s mouth again.

“I knew you were covered in freckles. _So fucking cute._ ” the taller girl said, tracing a few of them with her fingers and then lips before sucking any tender spot she found. Her other hand cupped Bonnibel's breast, the plush shape folding into her palm, driving Marceline mad.  

“God, your tits are so--. Why have I never--so many mistakes.” Marceline stumbled over her words. Her sexual banter was a bit juvenile where Bonnibel’s was more dominant. Bonnibel had forgotten this was likely Marceline’s first time with another woman. The world was just opening up for her. She enjoyed being there to experience the glory of another woman’s exposed tits for the first time.

“Now the rest of it,” Marceline demanded. Bonnibel complied as did the taller girl to her own words.

They fell into Bonnibel’s waiting bed. Their skin white-hot from arousal. Anywhere their bodies met, a pool of sweat would form. When Bonnibel’s breasts were freed from her bra and let loose Marceline was allowed to confirm a hypothesis of her own.

“Fuck. Your nipples are pierced. Bon...”

Bonnibel was straddling Marceline standing on her knees. Her long strawberry blond hair cascading over her naked body nearly to her belly button. Her small pink _pierced_ nipples peeking through the curling strands. The reality of this vision was even better than the fantasy had been. Marceline’s stomach flipped again for the hundredth time that night.

“Full of fucking surprises…” Marceline said as she captured a pierced nipple in her open mouth and began to tease it with the tip of her tongue.

“Oh, fuck! Marceline!” Bonnibel gasped. She grasped the mess of black hair again. She dug her fingers into the other girl's scalp, encouraging her to continue. 

Marceline then bit down on the flesh of her breast earning another gasp from the blonde. Her hands gripped Bonnibel’s firm round ass. She pulled them back and slapped it hard. 

Bonnibel pushed Marceline down against the bed. Marceline was reluctantly shaken free of Bonnibel's nipple. A trail of saliva connecting and breaking from her tongue to Bonnibel's wet nipple. Marceline bounced slightly when she hit the mattress causing her own tits to jiggle to the delight of Bonnibel. She grabbed one tit and began to palm and play with the nipple. She held herself up over Marceline and pulled the other girl's mouth onto hers. She deepened the kiss with her tongue before biting the other girl’s lower lip and pulling, making Marceline moan. She locked eyes once more with Marceline and began to trail kisses down the taller girl’s muscular body.

She looked up through the fringe of her strawberry blonde hair that had fallen in her face. She watched Marceline's pupils dilate again.  She loved to know watching Bonnibel worship her body turned Marceline on as much as herself. She dragged her tongue across the other girl's stomach and down closer to her patient cunt. She could tell how slick it was, how wet. A small pool had even formed on her sheets below them.

She grabbed Marceline’s hips and drug them closer to her mouth.

“Spread your legs,” Bonnibel commanded.

 

Marceline did as she was told. Bonnibel hooked her arms around the other girl’s thighs and dipped her head to meet the delicious slit. Her tongue lapped up Marceline’s arousal greedily, causing the other girl’s back to arch. She began to grip the stained sheets with tight fists at each particularly deft flick of the smaller girl’s tongue.

“Oh fuck, Bon. That feels so _fucking good.”_

She began to learn the movement of the other girl. Whenever Marceline would rut against her mouth, her cunt stubble would cause rug burn if she kept it up, she knew she was doing something right.

Marceline looked down between her thighs at the spread of wavy blonde hair that spilled over her own naked body. Bonnibel's eyes closed as she bobbed her head with each lap of her quick tongue as enjoyed her pussy thoroughly. It made her even more aroused than she was before. _This absolutely_ _gorgeous girl is eating me out._ It wouldn’t be long now before she came.

Bonnibel began to lick and suck lightly on Marceline’s erect clit with her agile tongue. She could feel her own clit wiggle in response at the sounds and jerks of Marceline's body above her. She decided to take it up a notch.

She slipped a finger into the other girls absolutely soaked cunt. It went in so easily she added another, and then a third, each earning her a near hysterical sigh from the girl she was fucking. Marceline pushed Bonnibel's head down against her cunt. Bonnibel knew the other girl was desperate to cum.

She began to pump her hand in and out along with working her clit with her tongue. It was only a matter of seconds before Marceline’s entire body began to tense, and her breathing became erratic and sparse. She felt the muscles tense and pulse around her fingers causing them to contract. Marceline's eyes flew open but saw nothing but stars.

“SHIT! GOD.” Marceline yelled gripping a fistful of blond hair.

She continued to pump her fingers in and out of the girl and slowed her fervid tongue to help Marceline ride out her orgasm. She did this until Marceline's breathing began to even out again. The spent girl threw her arm across her eyes, hiding her face in the crook of her arm.

“That was...that was insane, Bon. I can’t even--” Marceline said, her chest heaving.

 

Bonnibel lifted her head and wiped her mouth on the side of Marceline's thigh leaving a shiny trail of cum and lipstick.

 _Fuck_. Marceline felt like she could almost come again from the sight.  _There's lipstick all over my cunt..._

Bonnibel climbed up to snuggle the other girl, laying her cheek on Marceline's chest and helping her come down from the high.

“I had no idea...” Marceline said again.

She squeezed Bonnibel up against her, causing their breasts to become flush. It was an amazing feeling too. So many amazing new feelings to be explored. Marceline pulled Bonnibel up to meet her lips. She could taste herself in the smaller girl's mouth. It struck a fresh wave of arousal in both of them.

“Now it’s your turn,” Marceline said, as she flipped the other girl onto her back and made her way eagerly to Bonnibel's throbbing cunt.

 

\----

The next morning they awoke together, their lithe naked bodies entangled. When Bonnibel first opened her eyes she worried it was all a dream, one that she had had many many times. She just looked at Marceline’s peacefully sleeping face. It soon animated as a pair of bright green eyes met her own.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Marceline said. A warm smile grew immediately on Bonnibel’s face. She knew this was real. She let her finger trail the outline of Marceline’s bruised lips and neck.

Their mouths met for the first time that day. Arousal already beginning to stir in both of them. But first, they had other matters to attend to. Bonnibel's stomach growled sadly mid-kiss, Marceline desperately needed to piss.

Ah yes. Morning toiletries and food. More sex later.

Bonnibel lent Marceline a pink t shirt that said “princess” in white applique blackletter on it.

“I think i could really rock this fit if I cut the sleeves off…”

“Don’t bro-tank up my favorite T or I’ll crop your Blink 182 t shirt!”

“It’s oversized! Its meant to be huge!”

 

She settled for cuffing the sleeves and tucking it sloppily into her cargo pants from the day before. She asked to borrow Bonnibel’s toothbrush but she refused her.

“Your tongue has been in my _asshole_ and I can’t use your _toothbrush?”_ Marceline jeered. Bonnibel's face reddened but she still refused.

She brought her an unused one she had for some reason and directed her to the communal bathroom.

Bonnibel was just finishing getting dressed when she heard a few loud knocks at the door.

“Such a gentlemen. It’s open and I’m decent, not that that should matter now. Did you forge--” Bonnibel said playfully.

But it wasn’t Marceline.

It was Finn with a plastic bag from the Choose Goose.

 

“Oh its you. Haha. What’s up Finn?” She tried to mentally switch gears. Choosing to ignore the fact that her bed was soaked with cum still and the room probably smelled like straight up vagina. Finn was usually so oblivious anyway though. She probably had nothing to worry about. She hated these sorts of vulnerabilities.

“Who were you expecting? Haha. I wanted to stop by and give you some stuff to help with the hangover I thought you’d have. Just some gatorade and chinese food. Always helps me. Consider it a formal apology for upsetting you last night. I know you’ve got stuff going on, and if you ever need to talk…”

Just then Marceline shoved past him effectively ending his sentence.

“Yo, what are you doing here? What’s in the bag. Smells good.” She took it from Finn and examined the styrofoam container.

“Sweet! General Tso! Now we don’t have to leave to get grub. Less wasted time.” Marceline said, eyeing Bonnibel seductively.

“Ok... Wait. What are you doing here?”

Marceline looked for a queue of what to say from Bonnibel and got none, so she just decided to wing it. She put the bag down and snaked her arms around Bonnibel’s waist from behind.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, twerp.” She planted a rough kiss on Bonnibel’s already piebald neck. Her teeth digging into the flesh like a vampire. Bonnibel couldn’t help but nervous giggle to hide the fact that she was embarrassed. She pushed Marceline’s head away playfully. Marceline seemed to be a renegade when it came to pda in front of non-strangers as well.

“Marcy!" Bonnibel said chastizing, "Sorry Finn. Thanks for stopping by, and for the food. It was very sweet. Consider yourself forgiven.”

“Now buzz off.” Marceline said playfully, patting Finn’s head so rough that it twisted his little bear hat until it was backwards.

They closed the door on Finn somewhat rudely, but this whole situation was unprecedented.

“You know I would have wanted to tell him a different way, or just _never_.” Bonnible said, genuinely peeved but too enthralled with what was happening between them to be too mad.

“Whatever, Bonnie. You know it was fun finally ending that pathetic crush he had on you. I think we just broke his little hetero heart.” Marceline laughed.

She pulled the other girl in for another round of kissing. Loving the feeling of their bodies meeting once more.

 

Finn walked down the hall back to his dorm completely stunned.

 

_If that’s what PB does when she hates someone, what does she do when she actually likes them??_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we have earned that E, fellas 
> 
> Believe it or not this is my first time writing smut and I had a blast. Hope you enjoyed it. As always, kudos and comments appreciated.
> 
> Next chapter: Fluff, fluff and plot.


	12. Shared Membrane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm back!  
> A lil' chapter of smutty fluff for your troubles.

Marceline was topless in her bed.

 

Marceline was topless, and eating fried rice poorly with a pair of chopsticks dropping it all over her twice ruined sheets. Bonnibel had barely gotten a few bites in before Marceline took over the styrofoam container and shoveled chicken bits down her gullet like some sort of starving monster.

Bonnibel stopped to wonder how someone so fit could eat like this, but the thought soon fell from her mind when she returned to the situation at hand. Marceline was topless in her bed. This had to be addressed.

Bonnibel crawled across the distance that remained between them and removed the small wax coated box from the other girls claw-like grip and placed it on the nightstand.

 

“Hey! I’m dying. I came like six times last night and two more this morning. Let me carb up!” Marceline whined reaching after the box before Bonnibel stopped her.

“I thought you were a bad-ass competitive athlete, turns out you’re a wimpy baby”

“I dare a baby to have as much outrageous gay sex as we just had. See how it feels.” Marceline replied, cheeks still full of rice.

“Ok. I was all for the banter but it just got too weird.” Bonnibel laughed as she crawled into the other girl's lap. “Time for you to shut up.” Marceline swallowed audibly.

Marceline was still pouting a bit when the other girl reached her. The pantomimed dark mood passed quickly, though, when Bonnibel began to kiss her just under her jaw below the lobe of her ear. Marceline was still a little wet from the shower and she had managed to find a hidden drop of water to suckle on. She smelled like Bonnibel’s strawberry shampoo, instead of her usual more natural scent. It was a delightful detail.

 

She and Marceline had been lucky enough to catch the showers when they were empty earlier that morning. Bonnibel had initially planned to go after Marceline was back but the other girl’s devil-may-care attitude was rubbing off on her. Marceline had tugged her along into the stall almost dragging her towel in with her.

“Marceline! It’s against the rules!” Bonnibel said through her own giggling as the other girl toyed with the knobs trying to turn the shower on. There was a certain elation that came from being bad with Marceline. A little harmless mischief, why not? Marceline may be a little _bad_ but she was never _Bad. Right?_

 

Bonnibel nudged the taller girl out of the way so she could take control of the knobs and adjust the water to her liking.

“If I didn’t already know you were a top from last night, I would now. So bossy.” Marceline said as the warm water began to flow from the shower head onto her back. She pulled the shorter girl in closer, their bodies became flush under the stream.

 

Bonnibel closed her eyes and let the water rush over the both of them. For a second it felt like they were a single organism. The water was their binding agent. Their shared membrane. Bonnibel turned around to face the taller girl. The front of their bodies were still in full contact, and their arms were wrapped around one and other. They took a moment to just look at each other. Bonnibel’s ice-grey eyes meeting Marceline’s. They looked and looked, searching for something. Bonnibel caught herself looking for doubt, for a sort of ribald apprehension that could squelch the gravity of whatever this was in a cruel instant.

What was Marceline looking for? Her wild celadon eyes were pacing between her own like a cat.

The water quickly changed temperature as someone flushed a toilet nearby. Both of the girls squealed with Marceline yelling an aggravated “Fuck you!” at the unknown assailant.

“It was probably just the dean’s weird kid, Hope. Likes to come in here and do that when they know two people are in the shower at once.”  

“Fucking rich assholes are always like that. No respect for anyone.”

“Yeah…” Bonnibel said with a forced laugh.

“Oh right. I mean besides you, right. You’re like a cool rich person. I think.” Marceline said, trying to recover, noting her mistake. Or more noting not the mistake of speaking this opinion, but the mistake of possibly hurting Bonnibel’s feelings.

Bonnibel could tell the fact that she was wealthy hadn’t come into consideration before this moment, in the shower outside her private suite of a dorm room at one of the most expensive universities in the world.

“Maybe I can be like your Kept Boy or something. You can keep me aflush in corner store Chinese food and ripped t-shirts.” Marceline continued, trying to make light of the situation.

“I obviously am not interested in that sort of arrangement, Marcy.”

“Then what am I doing here?” Marceline laughed and pretended to exit the shower.

 

Bonnibel quickly pulled her back in. Her mood became serious like it had the night before. She didn’t like it when Marceline joked about what was happening between them. She pressed the taller girl up against the back wall of the shower. She could tell the cold tile shocked her.

“You’re here because we like fucking each other,” Bonnibel said. The strange voice she had used the previous night had returned. She was beginning to recognize its trigger: when Marceline was being too cavalier with her.

Bonnibel’s hand found its way between Marceline’s legs. The other girl didn’t say another word, only looked down at her with wanton anticipation.

“If that isn’t why you’re here, then I’m not sure what I’m doing here.” Bonnibel removed her hand to the chagrin of Marceline who only sighed and relaxed her tense body against the tiles. Bonnibel continued her shower in front of Marceline. She could feel the taller girl’s lascivious eyes tracing her body the entire time. It was not often that Bonnibel felt smug, but she did at that moment. She could tell Marceline wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab her.

After a few minutes, when she felt like she had tortured Marceline enough, she pulled her back under the water. Into their shared existence. She gently grabbed the back of her head and guided her in for a long slow kiss. A romantic kiss that was unhurried, unlike the others had been. Marceline’s had found its way below Bonnibel’s jaw and tilted her head up to deepen the kiss. Bonnibel could feel the heat welling in her center again. Her hands explored Marceline’s naked body, her fingers lightly tracing the line of her hips. Bonnibel began to pepper kisses down her body, stopping just below the other girl’s nipple. She drank the water that cascaded there, flattening her tongue against the other girl’s sensitive flesh to lap it up like a dog.

She could feel Marceline's breath shudder. She then accidentally gulped down a bit too much air and nearly choked on the water from the shower head.

The mood was still building but they needed to get back to Bonnibel’s room, or there was a strong chance the other girl might drown. They finished their shower quickly and ran in their towels back to the room and into her bed once more.  

 

\----

 

Bonnibel began to play with the other girl's ear just after nipping at the drop under the curve of her jaw.

“It's so funny to see your ears without the gauges in them. They are like loose little cat butts.” Bonnibel noted. Marceline had taken them out just before they showered.

“Yes. So poetic.Very sexy.” Marceline laughed. She then picked up a set of unused chopsticks and ran one through each of her empty gauged piercings.

“Oh my god!”

“I can put loads of stuff in them. Pens, shower curtain hoops, tampons…” Marceline pulled them out and ran one under her nose and sniffed. She made a repugnant face afterward.

“They always smell super weird after too, wanna see?” Marceline lunged at her with the besmirched chopstick.

They tussled for a while until the chopsticks were long forgotten and Marceline found herself on top of Bonnibel, pinning her hands to the bed at the wrists. They were both catching their breath when Marceline looked to the left. Bonnibel looked to see what had caught the other girl’s attention.

It was Bonnibel’s full-length mirror. Marceline was looking at them in this position, their naked bodies strewn across the disheveled bed.

 

“We’re like, stupid hot together, aren’t we?” Marceline remarked as if it were a fact she had just discovered that blew her mind. She noticed that Marceline continued to watch the mirror as Bonnibel turned to kiss her on the neck. She ran her tongue down the front of her chest from below. She could feel the other girl’s breath quicken and become more labored.

Bonnibel made her way to the other girl's breasts her hands still pinned to the bed at the wrists. She captured an erect nipple in her mouth.

“Oh fu--”

Marceline couldn’t take the show anymore and she had to give in, descending frantically into Bonnibel’s bed for the second time that morning.

 

\---

 

“Ok. Ok. Enough. I have to go. I promised Keila I’d be back by now.” The afternoon was getting away from them. It was already almost three.

“Does she know where you are?” Bonnibel asked as the other girl pushed her mouth away from her bruised neck.

“I think she has a hunch,” Marceline replied, with a bit of a smirk, and continuing to show great mental fortitude as she rose from the bed looking for her shirt.

“Then she knows whatever she needs isn’t as important,” Bonnibel replied, waxing siren.

“It's not just her, we’re supposed to have band practice today. It’s the only day that works really this week.” Marceline said as she pulled her shirt over her head. She tied the bandanna around her neck, realizing it did nothing to hide the sheer volume of hickeys. She rued her own reflection.

“I look like a fucking leper, Bonnie. I’m never going to hear the end of this.” Marceline stated. She continued to absentmindedly look for her clothes.

“Can I come?” Bonnibel asked sweetly. She was surprising herself, it wasn’t logic talking now. She should study, but what she wanted was Marceline.

“Um sure. You won’t be bored?” Marceline sounded hesitant and a little bashful.

“I can bring some homework,” Bonnibel replied as she too got up to get dressed.

“And if it gets too rowdy, I can wait for you in your room.”

“How could I say no? A gorgeous girl waiting for me in my bed? I had heard of rock and roll having these sorts of perks...”

 

\----

 

“There you are you slut! What the hell happened to you!” Keila shouted as Marceline entered the apartment.

Marceline’s face went beet red. Bongo too was in the living room. It appeared that they had been waiting on her to come home for some time. Essentially, waiting on she and Bonnibel to stop having sex long enough for them to practice before their band turned to utter shit. Actions and consequences. No one expected them to fuck for twelve hours straight. Marceline had only managed to send a couple of texts before her phone died the night before:

 

 **Keila** : _Where are you? Did you even clock out?_

 **Marceline** : _;p (  o Y o  )_

 **Keila:** _WINKY BOOBS! WINKY BOOOBS?!_

 

Keila had sent many more imploring texts but she knew what the code meant. Everyone knows what winky boobs means. Keila didn’t even know about what had happened with Ash in the alley, but that was a story for another time. He wouldn’t be much of a threat for the time being. More importantly, Keila was tugging at her bandanna and asking too many questions.

 

“Did the little nerd _beat the shit_ out of you, Abadeer? What the actual fuck?” Keila was rolling with laughter. “Is this how they do it in Germany?” Keila was still laughing.

 

Just then, Bonnibel appeared in the doorway holding her textbooks to her chest and wearing her thick, round, frameless glasses looking as demure as a lamb. Keila stopped laughing only to take in the state of things and begin again. This girl had taken down Marceline, one of the scariest most intimidating people she knew. It was too rich.

 

“C’ mon tiny one, you don’t need those books. We’re gonna educate you real good, in the ways of both rock and roll.” Keila put her arm around Bonnibel’s shoulders and lead her to the back of the apartment. Marceline rolled her eyes and followed suit.

 

The Scream Queens practiced in a shed in the backyard that they had slap-shoddily “soundproofed” but the neighbors didn’t seem to mind. They didn't want the cops around as much as anyone else. They began practice by passing around a blunt Bongo had rolled. He was quite the craftsman in all things weed related. Bonnibel took only a half of a puff before passing it to the rest of the band. The rolling papers were bubblegum flavored, a fact that gave everyone pause. Keila made a bawdy joke asking how the taste compared to the “real thing” causing Marceline to blush again. Something Bonnibel would never get tired of.

Bonnibel had only seen Marceline in her creative element once and it was earth-shattering. Seeing her now, it was even more so. She was watching Marceline lead her bandmates through different problems and helping them find smart, beautiful solutions that made sense. It was almost like science. Bonnibel was anything but bored.

When practice was over, they all went back into the apartment to hang out and chat for a while. It felt odd, to have somehow made it into this casual gathering of friends. It felt good. Bonnibel couldn’t remember the last time she had just hung out for its own sake, aside from the tragic events of the pool hall.

Seeing others usually had a purpose behind it: class, scheduled practices, and games, or --most recently-- sex. This had a different vibe. One that was chill to its core. Just existing with good people, having fun, spending a day. Bonnibel rarely spoke but they seemed to be ok with it. Even trying to impress her with their cleverness without any requirement on her part. It felt nice, and it let Bonnibel know how much they cared about their friend Marceline. They trusted her choice enough to try and make a good impression.

Keila disappeared into her room for a minute pretty abruptly after Bonnibel had finished reading a chapter for one of her electives. She hadn’t been listening too intently on the last conversation but Marceline had a look on her face that spelled trouble.

“What’s happening…” Bonnibel asked, warily.

“Ok. You can totally say no, but Keila just had the best idea.” Marceline responded, finding her way behind Bonnibel and wrapping her legs around her for a tight and assuring hug.

Keila dashed out of her room carrying a pile of clothes and a bottle of something. Something bright pink.

“Let’s play dress up.” Keila screeched.

Bonnibel was about to deny this wholeheartedly but she saw the genuine look of joy in Marceline’s face, she knew how much her fashion choices meant to her, and Bonnibel broke immediately.

“Ok. Whatever.” Bonnibel replied, pushing up her glasses. It earned her a big kiss from Marceline.

 

Bongo sighed and turned on the PlayStation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, more fluff, and some plot maybe?


	13. The Trap and the Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice long chapter for you! Feelings and plot!

 

Bonnibel had found herself in only a few situations in her life for which she had no one to blame but herself. 

Once, when she was young, she had gotten her skirt caught in some bramble and was at a loss as to what to do. She tried thrashing a bit, but only found herself becoming more and more tangled in the sharp weed. Another idea; she could rip her skirt --a heartbreaking task-- or even simply wait for an adult to come and cut her out of her entrapment. She was young enough to trust that an adult would begin to wonder where she was sooner rather than later. All she had to do was shut down, be calm. She laid her head down on the grass below and allowed herself to drift off to sleep for lack of anything better to do.

She dreamed of verdant hills, of lilac bushes and the gleeful chirping of birds, she dreamed of Spreewald. Her home.

She awoke several hours later still in the bramble. Spreewald was fading from her as was her sleep. Her uncle had not come to find her. Now, something new had come to torture her in her sleep, chiggers. Small red bumps covered her exposed legs. If she had just ripped her dress hours ago, this would have never happened. She found that she had to perform the emergency amputation and was still covered in the painful, itchy red bites. 

She stumbled back into her uncle’s large and beautiful house, the house her parents’  patents had paid for. It was now nearing evening. She opened the back door that leads into the kitchen and followed the sound of voices. Her patent leather buckle shoes made almost no sound against the immaculate tile of the kitchen. She peered around the doorway into her uncle’s study to find a group of older men all playing cards at a heavy circular oak table, the top felted green, a custom model Gumbald had brought in immediately when he moved in with Bonnibel the fall before. From a cart near the table, a strange and mustachioed man was helping himself to the decanter of cognac. Another held out his glass. The room smelled like cigar smoke. 

“Ein GEIST!” her uncle Gumbald exclaimed, facetiously when he saw her in the doorway. His mood was cheerful and his cheeks red from the rich caramel colored brandy. He looked at her torn dress and her wounded legs. 

“What have you been getting up to, little feral beast?” Gumbald’s friends were laughing at her. 

“I got stuck, Uncle. Outside--”

“Stuck you say! That wasn’t very smart of you! To think such so-called  _ genius _ parents could produce such a stupid child. Now, go and clean yourself up and go to bed. Your uncle has some business to attend to.” 

“He’s got a great deal of money to lose, ma petite princesse.” the mustached man said, a drunken lilt of french retching from his walrus-like mouth. Bonnibel laughed with the man, glad to not be the focus of the joke for an instant, no matter how frightened she was by the sheer number of older strangers.

“If you don’t go to bed, you’ll be the next thing we bet.” her uncle threatened when she lingered a little, too fascinated with the scene and the horror of it all. Only months ago she had been in her mansion with her parents and her friends. Now, this. 

The man with the mustache had been Braco’s father. Years later, she would find out they had done just what they had threatened to that night. A gentleman's agreement over a game of cards. Braco was to wed Bonnibel, cementing a sort of legacy. That night in the bramble, long before his other betrayals, was one of the last she had ever hoped to rely on her uncle for anything. 

She tried to not be swayed by reliance or blind trust ever again. And yet here she was.

 

“Marceline, you should always bring cute girls home. This is too much fun.” Keila whooped as they looked at their creation in the mirror. 

 

Bonnibel was wearing a pair of wide legged black gauchos that stopped about mid-calf. Under that, she had a pair of black fishnets that were tucked into a set of deep blood red tarnished leather low heels with leather bows on them. They had put her in a black worn and oversized satin bomber jacket and a cropped black button up top with a small rounded collar and no sleeves. Under that, she had on a cropped tight mock turtleneck with short sleeves.  They had also accessorized at her waist her with more chains than she knew what to do with. 

 

“Where did you get all of these? Like…” Bonnibel rattled a bit when she gestured at the metal dripping from her body.

“Home Depot. Everyone should accessorize from a hardware store.” Keila responded. 

“I look like the ghost of Marley.” 

“Thank you,” Keila responded. “Next we need to do your makeup. Marceline, want to take the reins?” 

“I am your filly now.” Bonnibel said with a little bit of a despondent smirk. 

“You have a manner of speaking that always gets me so hot, Bonnie,” Marceline joked. She was crouching low in front of the stool she had Bonnibel sit on. Her face was close enough to Bonnibel’s that she could feel the soft puff of her breathing. She could smell the warm scent of her breath. It was very intimate, and yet Keila was right there. It felt strange. 

Marceline was looking at her again. Her eyes darting all over her face, her hands touching her, but it wasn’t like she had looked at her earlier that day. It was like she was looking through her. Bonnibel couldn’t help but stare at the concentration on her face. Her bright green eyes were so gorgeous, especially in the fading light through the high window in Marceline’s room. The light found its way behind her eye in a way that looked absolutely radiant. Marceline stopped looking through her for a moment as she grabbed the eyeliner. She caught Bonnibel’s eyes with her own, at last, and knew what she had been up to.

“Stop staring at me and look up, dork,” Marceline said with a knowing chuckle, her red lip curling to reveal a bright bone white canine in a way that drove Bonnibel even wilder. The shorter girl’s face colored instantly, and a slow smile spread across Marceline’s face. 

She finished her eyes and went for a lip shade that was wine colored, like what she had worn the night of Marceline’s birthday. It made her warm to think about that, how she had moved something in the other girl that night. This color was a part of that. Something between the dark somber tones that Marceline loved, and Bonnibel’s warm pinks and reds. 

“Done,” Marceline told her. Bonnibel had been spacing out. She helped her up off the stool and lead her back to the mirror in Marceline’s room. Marceline mussed her hair a little when they got here. 

“I like it like this; not so perfect,” Marceline said. “Like when you woke up this morning,” she added just for Bonnibel. Bonnibel looked at her reflection. She was surprised to find that Marceline had not done much to her face, only the lip color and a little bit of eyeliner. Her grey eyes were startling behind her glasses, even to herself. Her freckles were highlighted, she knew Marceline liked that. Marceline probably liked everything about what she was wearing, how she presented just now. She shuddered.

“You don’t like me best like this, do you?” Bonnibel found herself hesitantly asking. “I mean you don’t want a girl like this more than me?” her voice sounded meek even to her own ears. 

“Oh my beautiful little genius. You can be so dumb sometimes.” Marceline said as she tucked a strand of strawberry blond hair behind a pink ear and leaned in to whisper, “I want you so badly I can barely contain it. This day has been excruciating.”  

“Just the same, I want to do something. Change something about myself, I have an urge to look different. It’s just -- I feel so different...” Bonnibel said decidedly. She found the bottle of hot pink hair dye Keila had brought in on a lark. 

“Let’s do it.”

“Oh fuck yeah!” Keila shouted.

 

\------

 

 Bonnibel walked into her Wednesday ceramics course feeling renewed. She had largely forgotten about the Finn debacle from the previous weekend, making their first greeting a little awkward because it seemed as though he hadn’t. So much had happened to her in that small amount of time. For one thing, she looked different. Keila had dyed her hair as she asked, and had even cut it. Bonnibel was shocked to find out she cut almost everyone’s hair on the team, and Marceline's too. She told Keila about a hairstyle she had wanted for a long time but had never been brave enough to attempt. 

Bonnibel’s hair was now a light pastel pink and shorter than it had been the last time the boys had seen her, at least in the front. She now had bangs now and two long thick strands of hair that fell over the front of her shoulders and were cut just above her nipples. Her ears poked out between the front strands and her hair that still tumbled down her back almost to her hips. 

 

“Diggin the new do, Peeb” Jake said with an intonation that implied both respect and  _ I didn’t know you had it in you!   _ Both of which Bonnibel appreciated. 

 

Finn didn’t say much. His eyes were reluctant to meet hers, this was something she found troubling. Jake did too, but he seemed privy to this particular mood. He knew there was something that Finn and Bonnibel had to work out without his butting in. He spent most of the period working on his latest masterpiece with headphones in. Jake was always the most perceptive among them. Finn’s mood hung over the hour like a low dense fog of misery. It was a marked change from all other class periods. This elective was meant to be where Bonnibel found peace. The tossing of clay, the molding of nonsense... 

She looked over at Finn’s workstation. He had been attempting to mold a small elephant. It looked terrible, as usual. He was simply not a craftsman in this way. Normally, he wouldn’t let it get to him, but today it was different. He dropped the little elephant and sank down in his seat so his head was on the table nested in his arms.

 

“I’m hopeless.” He said, almost to himself. 

“No, you’re not Finn. This is much better than that horse you made at the beginning of the semester… That’s an improvement!” Bonnibel tried to console him. 

 

While it was true that his skill had improved, it had not been by much. Bonnibel had taken great strides in her craft. She had never thought herself a talented artist until she met Finn. Her own tiny intricate manticore figure stood proudly at her station.

 

“It’s not just this. I just don’t seem to be good enough at anything.” Finn replied. This was an odd mood for him, one that she hadn’t seen before. 

“Finn, I’m sure that’s not the case,” Bonnibel replied, a bit stern but trying to make sure to also sound encouraging. 

“ I’m doing alright in my major, but it’s a joke. Everyone says so. Jake says not to worry about other people, just to focus on myself and my own journey through this timeline.” 

“Spoken like a true Philosophy major.”  

“Minor in Philosophy, actually. Major in Psychology. See? He’s doing so much. Sometimes I can’t even understand him when he gets going. And then there’s you…” Finn trailed off, hiding his head in his folded arms again.

“Most people don’t understand what I do. My studies are highly specialized. You shouldn’t feel bad for not getting them.” Bonnibel replied. 

“No, not school stuff. Like just  _ you _ stuff. You are so smart, so cool and interesting, and beautiful. Even more so now. I never stood a chance.”

“Finn, it’ll never happen. I thought you understood that...” 

“I know. And the fact that I do makes me feel so selfish and even more useless. But I can’t seem to turn it off; the feelings I have for you. Even when I know part of the reason you look even more beautiful than usual today is that you have something new in your life, something great with a great person who is so much more amazing than I’ll ever be. And that’s like  _ shining _ through you.” 

 

In the past, Bonnibel would find such a confession annoying. It would even make her angry, depending on the urgency and tone of the man presenting it. But something about this one just made her deeply sad. She wanted to help her friend but she was the one causing the trouble, so how could she?

 

“It’s just like  _ burning  _ through you and that’s all  _ her _ and it's painful for me. I think I can only see it because I know you, feel for you the way I do. It’s a special kind of hurt reserved for me for getting myself in this mess.” Finn said wistfully, looking towards the windows. The leaves had changed and were gently falling.

 

“Finn. I’m sorry this is happening to you. I have been in your position many times and it’s not a pleasant one. You can’t control who you fall for.  It hurts to love someone who simply cannot love you back in the way that you need. 

My Pater told me of a little cat he knew growing up. Her name was Pilz and she had lived in Pater’s village. She liked to stalk mice and eat garbage. She was very ugly, missing a leg and extremely independent. Pater was always so happy when Pilz would visit his stoop and drink the cream he had set out for her. He felt that pleasure at seeing her and thought that he would like to feel that way all the time. 

So he set out the cream and laid a small contraption to trap the cat once she stepped into it to get to the cream. The trap wouldn’t hurt her, and he would let her out as soon as he could. The plan was a success, and he took the cat into his home. He didn’t tell his parents this, of course, they thought Pilz was disgusting. 

He hid her in his room and was happy. He loved Pilz and loved having her around. When his parents came home, usually after he did from school, he would return her to his hiding place inside his toy chest. She hated it and would scratch and bite at him every time he put her away when his parents called him to dinner. 

He knew the cat didn’t like it, but he loved having her with him and supposed eventually she would forget her old life in the garbage cans of his village and realize that the life he had given her was much better. In a lot of ways it was. She was warm, well fed, and attended to. He bathed her, brushed her matted fur, tended to her wounds from battles. 

After a few months, he slipped up. His Mutter, my Oma, found the animal and quickly put her outside. According to my Oma, the cat ran like a bat out of hell, which in a lot of ways she was. She was offered freedom. She never came by my Pater’s stoop again.

My Pater was  untröstlich .  However, he learned a valuable lesson that day. While it is never a sin to give your heart to something, demanding one in return from one who cannot give it is a kind of cruelty. This kind of love, what he did to Pilz, was not love. He could have  been happy just to see her when she felt inclined and felt that joy had he just left the cream and not the trap.” 

Bonnibel concluded her reverie. She realized she had never spoken to Finn about her life before university with him. About the people, she knew, and now didn’t. She felt glad to have shared a vulnerability with him, as he had with her, but wanted to leave to think and not leave herself open for any follow up questions.

Finn was still in a dark mood, but it was to be expected. They had addressed the elephant in the room, and it wasn’t the one made of clay. 

 

\-----

 

The practice had gone swimmingly, as it had been since Bonnibel had taken over as coach. The girls picked up right where they had left off after the Halloween tournament. Afterwards, the team wanted to go out for chili dogs which sounded disgusting to Bonnibel but Marceline seemed game so they went. The girls were laughing and being rowdy. Hot dog princess ate nine fucking coney island chili dogs in under a minute and still held her title as the reigning chili choker champ. Her picture was already up on the wall of fame several times in the restaurant. At least her name was explained on this venture if no other good comes out of it, Bonnibel thought. 

After several pitchers of a mysterious generic lager only referred to as “That Juice” the time came for the tab to be settled, each of the girls dramatically turned out empty pockets. 

“Wait, Tonya, you’ve got the Skrill Chest in your b-pack right?” Ellis asked. 

“Oh, dude, you’re so right. I’m like the treasurer!” Tonya said. She was the newest member of the crew and a close friend of Ellis. Tonya had replaced Wendy after the Ash debacle. A quite hippy sort of girl with bleached blond hair who was slow moving everywhere but the flat track. Thus they had called her Turtle Princess and given her the least desired job, Treasurer. 

She opened her green domed backpack and fished out the lockbox the girls referred to as The Skrill Chest. There was no lock on it, however, and it was more like a discarded pencil box than a safe. 

“Looks like we’ve got...hm...one hundred and seventy-five...”

“Shit! Then we should get another lumpin’ pitcher of That Juice babes!” Ellis cheered.

“...cents.” Tonya finished.

“So We have a dollar seventy-five.” Bonnibel exasperated. “How do we only have a dollar seventy-five? How is that even possible?” 

The entire table then looked guiltily down at their empty chili soaked lunch trays, including Marceline. Bonnibel was starting to get angry. She knew she would have to pay for this stupid excessive shitty meal if things didn’t start going another direction fast.

 

“Well, we had to look lumpin’ fantastic for the Halloween tourney. I know a lot of us, myself included, needed to dip in the skrill to go to Michaels and shit.” Ellis announced shamelessly.  
“Yeah, Peeb, those places ain’t cheap!” Phoebe chimed in, with a bit of anger and a tinge of shame.

“Why not pay for the stuff out of your own money!? That money is for the team as a whole! Uniforms! New equipment! Outings like this! What happened to the cash prize we got from winning the tournament! Why isn’t that even in there?” Bonnibel fumed.

The whole table looked at Marceline. She suddenly looked like she was going to be sick. 

“I may have blown it all...on a biggo bottle of Henny for the Halloween party, but--” Marceline said, trying on her most seductive wolfish grin, which would have worked any other time than in this horribly lit overpriced hotdog water scented nightmare. 

“Dieb! Embezzler!” Bonnibel shouted, pointing at her.

“Hey, Bonnie, chillax. it’s no big deal. I shared it with the team, and some random people I’d never met who are now friends. That like falls under the heading of like a justifiable expense or whatever right? No harm no foul.” Marceline retorted shrugging her shoulders. She had never seen Bonnie like this. 

“I don’t know what you’re so mad at me for… Besides, you’re like rich or whatever, can’t you get this and we’ll pay you back from the next tournament winnings?” Marceline continued, distractedly pushing around a stray bean on her tray.  

“So I’m just supposed to pay for the skates, the food, the booze, everything”

“No. We’ll pay for it from the fund, which has been not-empty for the first time since you started coaching us. So that’s something.” 

Bonnibel pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

“Marce, it’s because I had been putting money in it to encourage others to. I’ve paid for everything. Everything except for…” 

“The tournament prize.” Marceline said as it dawned on her.

“Which you blew in one night.”  Bonnibel said through her teeth.

“But Bonnie, look at us, we’re like actually broke!.” Marceline said, gesturing to the table who looked on at the argument silently, too afraid of the incubating wrath of Bonnibel to say anything.

“ I know you wouldn’t think it from my glamorous looks, but it’s true,” Ellis replied.

“I don’t know why you think I’m made of money, Marce. I’ve got problems too, you didn’t even ask you just expected…” Bonnie began.

“Oh c’ mon, you’re like actually  _ wealthy _ Bonnibel, you can’t pretend you aren't. That’s so gross. You don’t have a job but look at your life. I mean your suite at the dorms, your things, even your underwear! It’s all worth more than--”

“Ooooh, when have you seen PB’s dorm, Marceline?” Phoebe joked.

“Or her underwear!!” Ellis joined in. 

“Oh grow up, so we fucked once. Ok? Happy?” Marceline announced with the venom of the fight on her tongue

Everyone was dead silent.

Bonnibel looked at Marceline like she had just ripped a puppy in half in front of everyone. Bonnie then, in one gesture, paid the clerk quickly for all the food and walked towards the door. 

 

“Aww, c’ mon moms, please don’t fight!! “ Tonya said, trying to lighten the mood. 

 

It didn’t work.

“Shut up, Tonya.” Marceline and Bonnibel shouted in unison. 

 

It was the only thing they could agree on that night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PB gets a hime cut lol


End file.
